 
### Murder and Mischief in the Hamptons

### Book Two in the Hamptons Series

By T. L. Ingham

This book is dedicated to my number one fan- may your flight be safe and may you thoroughly enjoy your read along the way!

### Murder and Mischief in the Hamptons

### Book Two in the Hamptons Series

Published By T. L. Ingham at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 Tammy L. Ingham.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Thank you for downloading this free ebook. Although this is a free ebook, it remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied, and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

Murder and Mischief in the Hamptons

Book Two in the Hamptons Series

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

A Note from the Author

Sneak Peek at Family and Fiends in the Hamptons

About the Author

Chapter One

My name is Sigreid Larson, but only my mother calls me that. Oh, and my father. My friends call me Reid. So does my police detective boyfriend, my gallery co-workers and my no-one-word-can-describe-her boss. Pretty much everyone I know calls me Reid. Even the ghosts.

Confused?

Allow me to explain.

The short version: One solid marble sculpture (applied to the noggin brusquely)- $1,200. One cat scan (to examine crushed skull)- $2,300. A lifetime of visitation from the spirit world- priceless.

Okay, so you might need the longer version...

Up until a few weeks ago my life was both peachy and keen. I was still living at home, to the everlasting joy of my mother and the eternal despair of my father. Not that my father didn't love me or want me around. Just that, like all other fathers, he wanted his baby bird to fly the nest. His chicken to leave the coop. His cub to abandon the den. You get the picture. He wanted me to move out and start paying rent someplace else.

Someday.

Sooner would be better.

Now's good.

And I did. Temporarily anyway.

But like a boomerang, it wasn't long until I came flying back. See, like any good daughter I had gone off to college in order to pursue an education and eventually a career. I managed the first half decently enough; it was the latter that I struggled with. After receiving my diploma, I quickly found out exactly how difficult it was to break into the art world. With all my dreams of a glamorous artsy lifestyle in some New York City borough smashed beyond recognition, I returned home with my tail tucked firmly between my legs. And there I spent two unproductive years helping out on the dairy farm my family owns and working nights waitressing. I had given up on art entirely.

Then all that changed when a call from an old college professor helped me land a job at one of the most prestigious art galleries in the Hamptons, Darcy Stillwell Fine Art Gallery. Sounds fancy doesn't it? Believe me, it is.

Since then, I have taken up permanent residence in my employer's guest house and have also been promoted from personal assistant to buyer for the gallery. On top of that, I've managed to land myself a boyfriend who not only has gainful employment, but is extremely easy on the eyes.

Sounds good right?

Couldn't be better.

Except.

Well, as with all things, you have to take the good with the bad. And I got plenty of the bad. My old professor turned out to be a scheming art thief, not to mention a psychotic murderer, and in no time at all I found myself framed for these crimes. It was pretty awesome. I spent more time in the interrogation room at the local police department than I had anywhere else in the Hamptons, and let me tell you, the lighting isn't kind. Only dressing rooms in clothing stores have worse lighting.

But that's beside the point. The point is that's how I met my boyfriend Jase. Well, actually I met him when he was called to the gallery to investigate the art theft. But, I got to know him in the interrogation room. And we had our first date in the interrogation room. Well, technically, it wasn't a date, it was lunch. But it _is_ where he asked me out for our first date- which incidentally took place in the hospital. Hey, I'm a girl that likes to get around.

Anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself. The long and the short of it is, I- through no fault of my own- got caught up in all the professor's evil machinations and wound up being whacked on the head with an incredibly hard, incredibly heavy sculpture. I awoke to a splitting migraine and the ability to see and speak to ghosts. The migraine eventually dissipated. The ghost thing did not. And you would never guess how many of them there are floating around the Hamptons- ghosts I mean, not migraines. Although the latter is also true. Still, now I know where people go to die. And I always thought it was Florida...

As far as my first date in the hospital, well, that was a result of the drug Professor Stanley injected me with (he was really racking up the bodies), before attempting to hop a plane to Bermuda or some such place with his girlfriend. It put me in a coma for a few days, but it didn't kill me. And so Jase, determined to have our first date sometime _before_ my funeral (which was seeming far more imminent than would make a person feel comfortable), insisted on having it there, where I was safe at least for the time being. He relished the idea that we had the room to ourselves, affording us a privacy that we would not have had at a restaurant. Of course, he couldn't see the ghost nurse sitting in the corner...

Which brings me to today. Released from the hospital: check. A ride home with the boyfriend: check. My mother still around to cater to my every whim while I lie in bed like a lazy lump and watch random television shows and drown myself in homemade chicken noodle soup: double check.

Everything was going along swimmingly. Which should have been my first clue.

No sooner had my mother opened the front door than Alex, the resident ghost of the guesthouse, burst through her- I mean _through_ her- which is a _very_ disturbing sight. It was like watching the alien burst out of Sigourney Weaver's chest. If it had... But I don't think it did. I think it was one of her space traveler cohorts. But you get the picture. It gave me the shivers and the willies when I had been looking forward to the warm and the fuzzies.

"You've got to help me find my murderer, or else I'll be forced to haunt you forever!" Alex shouted, while my mother said, "Hello, dear! Oh, you're shaking. Are you cold?" It looked as if she had two heads and they were both speaking.

"No, I'm fine," I said through chattering teeth.

"The doc said she might have trouble regulating body temperature for the next few days," Jase told her, wrapping an arm around me. There was that warm and fuzzy I was looking for.

"Well, then, best to get you off to bed," my mother instantly took charge.

At the same time Alex was griping, "Are you listening to me? You have to help me!"

"Did he send home any prescriptions?" my mother was asking.

Jase was answering while Alex continued prattling. If he imparted any important information, I missed it. God, I hope my mother was paying attention.

"-you hear me?! You'll have a lifetime of me constantly screaming in your ear! Do you want that?!"

"- dear?"

I had no idea what she'd just asked me. "Um. Yes? No?"

My mother sighed. It was the same sigh she had been using since I turned thirteen and puberty struck me deaf to all parental instruction.

"I said-"

"Damn it, Reid! This is important! Pay attention!"

"- dear?"

It was getting too confusing to try and separate the conversations, so I ignored them both and headed straight for the guest bedroom slash art studio. Since it was apparent I wasn't going to be getting rest anytime soon, I decided I had some painting to do. Thanks to my long stint in the hospital I was already a week behind and hey, my paintings were selling like hot cakes. I'd already sold the two I'd painted since moving here (both for a decent amount of money) and I was planning on investing in a long overdue new car. I may as well make the best of my time and get busy on a third.

"And just where do you think you're going, young lady?" my mother asked, grabbing me by the shoulders and attempting to steer me into the master bedroom.

"I just had a few ideas I wanted to sketch out," I muttered lamely.

"I don't think so! You just got out of the hospital! What you need is a few days bed rest."

"I've already had a few days bed rest and then some," I complained. Never mind the fact that just a few minutes ago I had been daydreaming of just exactly that, bed rest and motherly nurturing, at least until my obnoxious ghost had ruined it.

"I have to agree with your mother on this one," Jase chimed in. Of course he agreed with her. They'd done nothing but agree with each other the entire time I'd been in the hospital. My mother was ecstatic, delirious, on cloud nine and in seventh heaven about my dating Jase. Apparently, she found him highly suitable to be the father of the dozens of grandchildren she was busily planning. She probably already had their names picked out.

If he only knew.

"Fine, I'll lay down."

Once more I headed toward the guest room, but my mother stayed me.

"No, no! Not in there. You take the master; I'll sleep in the guest room. Lord only knows what breathing in all that vapor from those paints will do to you!"

"They haven't killed me in so many years; they're hardly likely to hurt me now."

"You haven't just come out of a coma in all these years either!" My mother, the word mixologist.

"Are you listening to me?!" Alex was butting in again. "You have to help me find my murderer, or you'll be stuck with me forever!"

I continued to ignore him and allowed my mother and Jase to lead me to the bedroom.

"If you won't help me find him, then at least get Olivia over here to perform a cleansing, or an exorcism, or _something_!"

My boss Pia, among her other eccentricities, wholeheartedly believes in ghosts, which comes in handy considering my position. Though, shockingly enough, when I initially made my confession to her about my suddenly inherited ability, she didn't believe me. Instead, she blamed it on brain damage and took me for a cat scan. Seriously.

Anyway, one of her best friends (and the only other living person who knows my secret), is a self-proclaimed medium named Olivia St. Pierre. While Olivia can in fact speak to the dead, primarily she speaks to her husband Jean-Luc, who became attached to her upon his death. When Olivia does attempt to speak with other ghosts, she mostly hears what she describes as a buzzing noise. Because of this, more often than not she gets the information mixed up. For this reason Olivia had everyone believing that Pia's gallery was haunted by _the_ Raphael and Pia's house was haunted by a civil war era freed slave named Cicily. Being depicted as a woman hadn't set well with Alex.

Olivia had already performed a cleansing of Pia's home and gallery some time ago (in order to remove unclean spirits or some such), but this was hardly the time to remind Alex of that. I also could not point out that Olivia was not an ordained priest and therefore was unlikely to be capable of performing an exorcism. (I highly doubt her ever-present fur coats qualify as priestly vestments and the numerous baubles and bangles she wears are definitely _not_ rosary beads.) My tongue was held only by the fact that my mother and Jase would be there to witness me speaking such things to the wall, no doubt causing them to rush me right back to the hospital where at the very least I'd be in for another cat scan. Or, if I was really lucky, I'd get a one way ticket to a stay in the psyche ward and a pretty new jacket with arms that tie in the back.

Alex was unrelenting in his ranting the whole time my mother made me comfortable, fluffing my pillows and smoothing my blankets and cracking the window, before she finally headed to the kitchen to make me something to eat. Jase continued to hover a few minutes more, eventually saying goodbye with a few passionate kisses- kisses I might have enjoyed a whole lot more if Alex would just shut up for five minutes- and then he left for work.

Left alone, (with the exception of one highly agitated ghost) I hissed, "Will you just stop for five seconds and listen to yourself? Olivia _already_ performed a cleansing. What good would another one do?"

"I don't know. Get rid of anything she missed, maybe? You don't understand- I'm in danger!"

"How can a ghost be in danger? You're already dead- what more could anyone do to you?"

"I don't know. I just know that it's bad. I have a bad feeling."

"Well, your 'bad' feeling means nothing. She's already done a cleansing, inept as it was. You're obviously still here."

"It's meant to remove malevolent spirits. But you do have a point, Olivia can be inept. Talk to Pia; see if she'll hire somebody else. Someone who knows what they're doing."

I shook my head. "No can do. That's what caused the trouble between Pia and Olivia before. I'm not about to be the one to start it all up again." Gloria, Pia's deceased friend who was stuck to Pia as much as Jean-Luc was stuck to Olivia, had told me that Olivia had been very peeved with Pia when she found out that Pia had hired another medium to confirm Olivia's claims regarding the ghosts inhabiting Pia's home and business. It had all been patched up, but still, Olivia was having a hard enough time dealing with the fact that my own abilities far outweighed hers. There was no way I was going to add fuel to the fire by recommending another medium. Too many ghost-whisperers spoil the broth. Or something to that effect. I am my mother's daughter.

Instead, I tried another avenue. "Has it dawned on you yet that another cleansing, or an exorcism for that matter, might result in your own banishment?"

Alex flopped down miserably on the end of the bed. "Then what am I supposed to do? I simply can't go on like this!"

"Go on like what?" I eyed him suspiciously. "Has something happened while I was gone?"

"No, not really. It's just that she left me alone after you moved in. It kind of lulled me into a false sense of security. And then, with only your mother here, it became no holds barred. And you have no idea how vindictive she can be."

"She who? _Another_ ghost?" Just what I needed. I could barely keep track of them all now.

"But, maybe now that you're back, she'll just disappear into the ether again."

"She who? Alex! She who?"

But it was too late. Apparently deciding he had already said too much, Alex disappeared. Damn him.

Chapter Two

I spent the next two days gloriously ghost-free and being waited on hand and foot by my mother. Alex hadn't deigned to make another appearance, which was unusual. I tried to remember passing even one day without Alex's company (whether I wanted it or not), and came up empty. Alex had always been a daily occurrence. I probably should have been worried.

Since there wasn't much to do and very little distraction, I had been exceptionally productive in my sketching. (Mom had allowed me my sketch book since that didn't require me to step foot out of the bed.) I already had three designs, one of which- an abstract still life with pears that I was especially excited about- I couldn't wait to get started painting.

Just as soon as my mother let me out of the bed.

Honestly, it was like she thought some catastrophe was just awaiting me as soon as I put so much as one toe on the floor. Which, considering how the last few weeks had gone, wasn't really all that preposterous. Still, it was annoying.

Aside from Jase, I had no other visitors. My mother had told me Pia was holding everyone else at bay. Pia was still feeling a bit guilty about everything that had happened, although she had absolutely no reason to. Was it Pia's fault that Professor Stanley was a nut job? Was it her fault that the professor had decided to make her the focus of his revenge in his vendetta against her prestigious art critic father- a man whom he blamed for destroying his erstwhile career? Was it her fault that in doing so I got caught in the melee? No, it was not. But there was no convincing her otherwise. Even my mother had failed. And that _never_ happens.

And so it was, that on my third day of enforced rest, I was shocked, surprised and excited when someone knocked at my door. It was too early to be Jase, and much as I might be learning to adore him, I could not object to a little variance in my visitation.

Gloria announced my visitor by flying into the room and yelling, "Look out! Here he comes!" and then, "Too late!" as the door flew open, bursting through her.

"Reid! Girlfriend!" Robert came bustling into my room, practically at a dead run- a flouncing, dead run. (I don't know how it's possible either, but trust me, it is.) Robert is one ball of pudgy, proud gay male, filled to the brim with overzealous energy.

"Robert!" I smiled. It's hard not to when you're talking to Robert, even more so since he was carrying an enormous bouquet of flowers and a gift-wrapped package.

"My dear, _dear_ girl! You'll never know what I've been through in order to come and visit you today! Pia guards this place better than Fort Knox! I swear she has Doberman in her blood! Or English bulldog," he snickered at his own joke. Pia's father was English and she still maintains a bit of his accent.

"Robert Whitaker!" Pia's strident tone followed him into the room and she was not far behind. She was obviously fuming when she stormed in, perched on her ever-present stiletto heels. "If you upset that girl, so help me, I'll-!"

"Now she's gonna get him," Gloria folded her arms over her chest and smiled smugly from where she sat, one leg crossed over the other, bobbing in midair.

"You'll what? Throw a shoe at me?" he whirled on her and bobbed his head. I swear if his hands hadn't been full he would have performed that god-awful finger snap 'z' thing that I never did understand, even when it _was_ all the rage. "Honey, don't mess with a determined gay man. As Liza said, 'Don't tell me not to live, just sit and putter."

"That's, 'Don't Rain on My Parade,'" I informed him.

"So?" he shrugged.

"You know, Funny Girl?"

Nothing.

"That's Barbra Streisand, not Liza Minelli," Pia informed him crossly, folding her arms over her chest and glaring at him.

"So kick me out of the gay club. I was always more of a Bette fan then Liza or Barbra. The point is, don't stop me now."

"That's Queen," I said.

He grinned. "Fitting, right?"

"What are you doing here? I told you absolutely NO visitors until Tuesday. The girl needs her rest." Pia was not about to let this go.

"It's all right, Pia," I said. "I've been missing everybody. And honestly, I've been so bored."

"Well, I could have come in and entertained you at anytime," Gloria offered. As if. "Who was going to stop me?"

I ignored her.

Moving over to the bed, Robert bent and kissed me on the forehead. Considering the girth of his middle, this was no easy task. "Dane and I have missed you too, honey. You have no idea how much! Dane wanted to be here, but he simply didn't think he had the stamina to outrun Pia, even in her six-inch heels." Funny to think that Dane, who was in far better physical condition than rotund Robert, lacked the stamina Robert seemed to have in leaps and bounds.

Pia, as if realizing the battle was lost, finally acquiesced. Narrowing her eyes, she said, "All right, you can stay. But only for five minutes."

"Twenty."

"Ten."

"Twenty-five."

"You're going the wrong way."

Robert giggled. "I always have."

"Don't be disgusting. Fifteen minutes, but not one minute longer. Do you hear me?"

"Loud and clear, Mrs. Darcy-Stillwell! Ten-four, over and out!" Robert saluted her.

"Would you like some tea, Pia?" My mother took Pia by the arm and led her from the room.

Gloria, I noticed, stayed behind. She shrugged. "Whatever Robert has to say has got to be more exciting than listening to Pia and your mother trade recipes."

"Finally!" Robert dropped down onto the side of the bed causing the mattress to tilt alarmingly. I was a little worried that I might roll out of the bed and crash onto the floor, thereby extending my enforced recuperation, so I quickly readjusted my position.

"The flowers are beautiful," I prompted. Robert had already forgotten the gifts he was carrying.

"Oh, yeah," Robert tossed these onto the mattress beside me. "Dane thought you might like them. He has much better taste in things of that nature. He stuck a 'Thank You' card in there somewhere."

"Really?" I began searching through the abundant blossoms. "'Get Well' I would have understood, but 'Thank You?'"

"He's absolutely thrilled about Jaques. That man's a genius."

I had helped Robert and Dane find their new chef when their old one turned out to be a problem for them. A big, flirtatious, home-wrecking, jealousy-causing problem.

"I'm glad to hear he's working out so well."

"Oh, he is," Robert nodded enthusiastically. "The way he cooks, it won't be long before Dane starts looking more like me. Anyway, that's not what I'm here for." With that, he shoved the gift-wrapped package at me.

"What's this?"

"Well, you see, a little birdie told me that your birthday is just around the corner."

Robert's 'little birdie' almost always turned out to be Olivia. But for the life of me I couldn't figure how she came upon that information. So I asked.

"You know Olivia. She says Jean-Luc found out when he talked to your grandfather or great-grandfather, or whoever it was. Steven."

"Sven."

"Whatever. Anyway, the way I figure it, she took a looky-loo into Pia's files. She has been spending a lot of time at the gallery lately."

"She is nosey that way," Gloria was obviously disgruntled. She and Olivia had never been friends.

"My birthday isn't for another few weeks. Isn't it a little early for giving presents?"

"Oh, it's not a _present_ , present. It's more along the lines of an offer. I told Dane the flowers were all fine and dandy, but not nearly what we owed you. After all, you are not only solely responsible for keeping my marriage together, but also ultimately responsible for our happiness."

I thought this was laying it on a little thick. And I really didn't like the thought of being responsible for anyone's happiness. But that was Robert, melodramatic whenever the case called for it. Or didn't.

"Anyway, you have no idea how thrilled Dane and I are that you managed to survive that ghastly professor's attack. I never did like the man. I always thought there was something squirrelly about him. I just couldn't put my finger on what it was." He considered this for a moment. "Though I don't think 'homicidal maniac' would have been my first guess. Still, it's lucky for us. Professor Stanley inherits a jail cell and we inherit his chef. Everyone's a winner! Now, about his maid..."

"You're looking for a maid now?"

"Not necessarily now, Dane feels like we should each pitch in and share the load, so to speak. But you know how particular he can be. (I did not.) He's so fussy about everything. There's only one way to do a job, and his is the right way. I'm much more easygoing. I prefer taking shortcuts whenever possible and that just won't do with Dane. Anyway, work keeps us so busy, that it hardly leaves us any time to relax. All work and no play makes Robert a dull boy. And now Dane wants me to go to the gym-"

Gloria practically tipped over laughing at this.

"The gym?!" I was having a hard time imagining Robert working out.

"I know, right? Sweating to the Oldies is not for me. Now I don't mind the thought of hanging out and ogling all those muscle bound bodies swaddled in spandex, but this body wasn't made for spandex."

No kidding.

"While the thought of seeing Robert's rolls stuffed into spandex like so much sausage in a casing makes me want to vomit," Gloria was saying, "the prospect of ogling the hotties at the gym makes me wish Pia went. You don't suppose you could talk her into joining with Robert?"

I had no intention of doing any such thing, so once again, I ignored her.

"Anyway," Robert made a little flourish with his hand, "Dane says he's not concerned so much about my physique, as he is my heart. He wants me heart healthy and all that jazz. I'm thinking a box of Cheerios ought to take care of that. At least, that's what the commercials say."

I had no doubt the Cheerios would surrender. Of course I didn't say that.

"So, are you going to open your gift or what? Dane and I are dying to know what you think!"

"Think about what?" That was as far as I got, before Pia came stalking back into the room and interrupted.

"Time's up! Out you go, Robert! O-u-t, out! Before I sic the dogs on you!"

"You don't have any dogs," he told her even as he pushed off the bed.

I suddenly had visions of the mattress springing back into its former thickness and flinging me into the ceiling.

"Then I'll get some. Big ones! Just for you!" Pia was now pushing him. Ineffectual considering the immense difference in their sizes, but still, it was working.

"Goodbye, Reid!" Robert fluttered his fingers at me in a little wave and then disappeared down the hallway. I could hear the two arguing all the way through the living room and out the front door.

"So, what's with the present?" my mother asked me.

"Yeah, open it!" Gloria chimed in. Apparently Pia hadn't made it far enough away yet to tug Gloria along with her. I had seen it happen once, when Pia was driven away in a car being piloted by Olivia. One minute Gloria was standing there and the next she was yanked away as if someone were pulling her on a rope. Since Pia was currently being propelled only by heel-toe express I doubted the ejection would be that violent. Still, there was a small part of me that wished Pia would jump in the car...

"The present, dear?" my mother prodded.

I gave her the same explanation Robert had given me, ending with, "Although I'm almost afraid to open it. When it comes to Robert, you never know what's inside." Somewhere during that time Gloria had vanished.

My mother's eyebrows rose. "There is that."

Carefully, half-expecting those springy, cloth-snake things that like to hang out in peanut brittle cans to come shooting out at me, I slid off the ribbon and opened the paper. Inside the box I found a bejeweled tiara, along with what looked like another card. It was made out of heavy cardstock and was covered in elaborate print. Quickly, I scanned the words and then passed it to my mother.

_Masquerade ball! Please join us as we celebrate Reid Larson's birthday!_ Following this was the location information and a number to R.S.V.P.

"Masquerade ball?" my mother queried.

I held up the tiara.

"Ah. So you're supposed to be the queen of the ball?"

Remembering Robert's penchant towards queendom, I commented, "I think I'm meant to be the princess."

"Rich, white girls always think they're princesses. And now I'm stuck with one. Well, don't that just figure!"

The voice was entirely unfamiliar to me and I quickly scanned the room to see where it was coming from. At first I saw nothing, but then a figure slowly started to emerge. Whoever she was, I was certain I had never laid eyes on her before. But as she became clearer, I began to realize, this must be Olivia's 'Cicily.'

And all this time I'd thought she'd been talking about Alex.

Chapter Three

If my mother noticed anything strange in my behavior, she didn't say a thing about it. Instead, while the latest ghost to cross my path stood glaring at me from only a few feet away, my mother snatched up the flowers and left the room, offering to put them in water.

The ghost, a young black woman somewhere in the neighborhood of her early twenties, was dressed in a fringed suede miniskirt, a bright yellow blouse with flowing sleeves and a deep V-neck, and thigh high platform boots. She was all the rage in the seventies. As was her hair. She was sporting one of the biggest afros I'd ever seen. She looked like she should be in Central Park swinging her arms about in an arcing motion and calling for the sun to shine in.

"Cicily?"

"Cecilia!" she snapped, her eyes crackling. "Damn that woman! She don't listen to a word her husband says to her, so why in the hell does she even bother talkin' to him?"

"Sorry."

"Don't go apologizin' for her; you got enough on your own to apologize for."

I was stunned. "Me? What did I do?"

"Did you say something, dear?" My mother returned with the flowers she had artfully arranged in a vase.

"Just talking to myself," I said even as Cecilia was saying, "Just so you know, I'm done tip-toein' around you. I was hopin' you'd go away on your own, and for awhile there it was lookin' like someone was gonna help you. But now I see it ain't the way at all, so there's gonna be hell to pay!" With that, she popped out, but not without leaving a little destruction behind. Even as she disappeared, the vase exploded in my mother's hands, spraying water and glass everywhere.

"What the-!" My mother jumped back, shocked.

I lurched out of the bed, how I thought I could possibly assist her I don't know, I only know that it was instinctual to go to her aid. Naturally, I stepped on a piece of glass in my bare feet.

I was hopping about the room with blood spurting from my foot and shouting, "Ow, ow, ow!" while my mother was chasing me around trying to pluck the offending piece of glass from my heel. Chaos at its best. Naturally that was the perfect time for Jase to arrive.

"What in the hell?" he demanded before quickly taking charge. Scooping me into his arms, (no mean feat- I am not a petite person) he tossed me onto the bed. "You, stay there." Then turning to my mother he said, "Is there a shampooer, or a shop vac, or something around here?"

"Not that I've seen. Just a regular vacuum. But with all this water, that won't do. I'll check with Pia at the main house."

Jase nodded then turned back to me. "I can't leave you alone for one second, can I?"

"Hey, this was not my fault!"

"It never is," he sighed, as he sat on the side of the bed. "Let me see."

I sat as still as I could while he gingerly worked at the glass embedded in my heel. "It's in there pretty good."

"I am _not_ going back to the hospital."

"I never said you were."

"Just so we're all clear on that fact."

"Give me a sec," he said and headed into the bathroom.

I couldn't help but to look around me a little apprehensively. Cecilia had made it quite clear that she was like no other ghost I had ever dealt with. She wasn't impotent. She was malevolent. A poltergeist. Maybe Alex had a point when he had suggested another cleansing.

Alex!

Damn him. _This_ was who he had been talking about!

Before I had time to consider the matter further, Jase had returned with a first aid kit and some towels and washcloths. Very gently, he swabbed the area with a wet cloth, then, using the tweezers from the kit, he began the process of removing the glass.

"So what happened?"

"My mother was carrying a vase- ow!"

"Sorry. Go on."

"Some flowers that- ow!"

"Don't be such a baby."

I frowned. "I'm not being a baby! It hurts!"

"I'm trying to be careful."

"Try harder."

"Anyway, the flowers?"

"The vase just exploded in her hands."

"Huh. That's weird."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

"There must have been a fault in the glass. Anyway, who sent you flowers? Should I be jealous?"

"No, Rob- OW!" This time I snatched my foot away. "That's it! You're done!" I examined my heel for any excessive damage.

"There's still another piece in there. Do you want it to fester?"

"Better that, than this torture you're putting me through!"

Jase grabbed my foot and repositioned it on his knee before continuing to forage for the glass. Against my will.

When he was finally done- several agonizing minutes later- he re-cleaned it and bandaged it before finally letting me go.

I snatched my foot back and glared at him, but said nothing.

"Ya big sissy," he said, kissing me on the forehead.

"You try having glass embedded in your foot while some maniacal sadist digs around looking for it like he's excavating for gold!"

"They don't excavate for gold. They excavate for archaeological artifacts. They mine for gold."

I felt my frown deepen. "Semantics."

"There is a difference."

"Fine," I snapped. "Some maniacal sadist was digging around excavating for golden artifacts. Happy now?"

"Yes, thank you." He smirked in a very self-satisfied manner.

I considered kicking him off the bed, but my foot already hurt too much without breaking an ankle, which would be just my luck.

Just then my mother returned with a carpet shampooer, quite possibly saving Jase some sort of bodily injury. (I may have decided against kicking him, but I had still been considering other alternatives.)

Pia was right on her heels, and Gloria was on hers. "Oh, darling! Your lovely flowers!" Pia exclaimed. "What a shame!"

"What the- what happened?" from Gloria.

All conversation ground to a halt while my mother ran the noisy shampooer and Pia and Jase worked at picking up the flowers, most of which were damaged beyond repair.

They had no explanation as to why the petals had blown off of all the delicate blossoms, as if they too had exploded along with the vase, but I had one. And it worried me. Hell, it scared me beyond reason.

No one but me noticed when Gloria bent down and picked up one of the ruined roses. "Cecilia." She said before dropping it once more.

Only one word. But frightening nevertheless.

Chapter Four

After a few more days of un-restful rest, my mother deemed me healthy enough to relinquish her role as caretaker and return home to my father, leaving me to my own dubious devices. Her parting words were the oft repeated admonition not to associate with anymore bloodthirsty killers. Assuming I might choose to do so. Because, naturally, given the opportunity, I would jump at the chance.

Like I told her, it's not like they advertise. Sincerely, it would be much easier if all criminals had a big sign painted on their front doors so that you might have a warning before you walked inside. Something along the lines of, 'Caution: Homicidal Maniac Lives Here! Enter at Your own Risk!'

Meanwhile, Pia finally pronounced me well enough to return to work. With so many mothers trying to take care of me (a.k.a. control me), it's a wonder I was able to do anything for myself. I was beginning to feel like I needed permission to use the bathroom. And possibly a hand to hold when I crossed the street.

Still, I was glad to be out of the guest house, if for no other reason than it now scared me to be there alone. I hadn't see hide nor hair of Alex since Cecilia's emergence, though thankfully, I hadn't seen hide nor hair of her either. I also hadn't had an opportunity to speak to Pia regarding having another cleansing, and whether or not it ticked Olivia off, if I had my way, it was going to be done.

When Pia and I arrived at the gallery- and Gloria too, of course- Giorgio met us at the door.

"Pia! What are we going to do about the warehouse? I have almost nothing left on the floor (Giorgio's 'almost nothing' was a bit exaggerated- true there were some empty holes, but overall the gallery was full) and there's nary but a crumb in the warehouse!"

Gloria yawned to announce her boredom, then flew away to examine a nearby sculpture.

"I know, darling, I know," Pia waved her hands at him. "It's been a bit crazy these last few weeks, and with the increased popularity of the gallery, not to mention the season's being in full swing now, we've got some heavy buying to do. I'll take care of it, don't you worry!"

"It's not only that!" he insisted. "I've been doing the inventory and there are a number of empty crates in the warehouse. There's not nearly as much art back there as one would assume!"

A girl I'd never met before suddenly came up to join us. She was a few years younger than I, early twenties at most, and judging by the coffee she held out to Pia, I took her to be Zoe, Pia's new personal assistant.

"Low-fat, mocha latte, half-caf, extra shot, hold the whip."

Damn her. She was a far better assistant than I had ever been.

"Sycophant." Gloria had rejoined us.

I couldn't help but to smile at her assessment.

"Thank you, Zoe," Pia took a sip of the warm brew and sighed happily. "Oh, you two haven't met yet, have you? Zoe Riley, this is Reid Larson, one of our buyers. Reid, Zoe is my new assistant."

We exchanged the expected pleasantries, then Pia said, "Zoe, would you get started on that call list, please? I have a few things to go over with Reid. Giorgio, stop fussing, I'll get your floor filled soon. Simone has a few things she's bringing in today and a few more before the end of the week. With three of us going at it, we'll have the warehouse back up to capacity in no time."

Giorgio threw his hands in the air, the international symbol for 'I give up,' and stormed away.

"What's his deal?" I couldn't help but to ask Pia as Gloria and I followed her to her office.

"Since Fiona's gone, Giorgio is now the senior seller, and he's taking it quite seriously. He's taken complete ownership of the floor and treats it as if it were his own gallery. Honestly, Fiona's leaving was the best thing that could ever have happened to this gallery. Giorgio is much more hands on than she ever was. He's already turned in a new floor plan and it's so exquisite I told him to run with it. That's one less thing on my plate. Plus, he takes care of all the deliveries- which is a great relief to Maya- and stays on top of the warehouse staff and has handled all the training and scheduling for the new salesperson."

After everything that had happened with Professor Stanley, Pia had found herself down three employees, two that were murdered and one- Fiona- who had quit. (Who could blame her really? With employees dropping like flies, the environment had suddenly become very unstable.) After so much bad luck, things finally seemed to be working in Pia's favor.

"Pia!" Simone called just as we were entering Pia's office. She followed us in, then eyeballing me, said, "Oh, you're back." The disappointment in her tone was palpable.

There was no love lost between us. In fact, things would have worked out much better for me had Simone been one of the staff to leave. I would have been okay with her murder, too. "Yes, I'm back."

Turning back to Pia and instantly dismissing me, Simone said, "I have two appointments this afternoon. The ones we discussed yesterday. Am I a go on those purchases?"

Hmmm. What was this? Simone was having to clear her purchases through Pia now? This was new.

"The industrial sculptures and the textured abstracts? Yes, those will be fine. See how many you can get, Giorgio is complaining that his floor is empty. But wait on those others; I haven't yet decided one way or another."

"Fine." Simone turned on her heel and left the room, closing the door behind her. You could almost hear the grinding of teeth on the other side of the door.

"A lot has changed around here since I've been gone."

Pia sat behind her desk. "Yes, darling, it has. That's part of what I wanted to talk to you about. I may find myself relying on you a bit more heavily than one would expect given the newness of your position. Considering the situation with Simone- she's here on what you might call a probationary period- I don't see how it can be avoided." The cause of this probation was no doubt the affair that Pia and I had discovered Simone was having with Ricky, one of the warehouse workers, just prior to his murder. Truth be told, Simone was lucky. If it wasn't for her master's degree (a degree she loved to flaunt at every possible opportunity) she probably would have been fired on the spot.

"Now, do you honestly think that it's fair that Pia punishes Simone for such a minor infraction of the rules?" Gloria was letting her annoyance be known. Effusively. "It simply infuriates me! What is this- a nunnery? There's no room for old-fashioned sentimentality in today's world and it's about time some people got that through their thick skulls! She acts as if-!" Gloria kept right on going, talking over the top of Pia. So much so, that before long, I had no idea what either of them was saying.

"STOP!"

Pia sputtered to a halt. "Excuse me, dear?"

"I'm sorry," I flashed a glare at Gloria. "Not you. Gloria."

Pia looked at the ceiling. "Gloria, dear, do stop being tiresome, will you?"

She waited a minute then said, "There. Did she stop now?" When I nodded, she went on. "I was saying, with me having to babysit Simone every step of the way, I have less time to focus on my own buying. That's going to leave the majority of the weight on your shoulders. Is this something you think you can handle?"

While I wasn't sure if I could or not- dairy farming and waitressing is a far cry from buying art- I answered in the affirmative. "Absolutely."

"Toady," Gloria sniped.

I flashed her another glare but said nothing.

Pia sighed. With relief, I noticed. "All right then! I'll give you today to set up your office (I had forgotten about that- my own office!) and then tomorrow you see what you can do. Meanwhile, not to put too much pressure on you, I am still quite interested in representing you as an artist. I know that you've already sold the two pieces you had, but should you finish any more..." She left the statement open ended.

I nodded. "No problem. I actually have a few ideas I'm working on now. I'll let you know when they're done."

Pia clapped her hands in satisfaction then dismissed me.

I headed to my new office just down the hall, all the while trying to dismiss the fact that it had been previously occupied by one of my murdered co-workers. (Though, since Corey had been an accomplice to the professor's counterfeiting scheme, I couldn't feel a whole lot of pity.) The room was bare except for the furniture and one vase of flowers sitting on the desk.

I was tempted to make a wide berth of the flowers- my recent experience with exploding vases had me a little gun shy- but remembering that ghosts (unless they are connected to people) are usually stuck in one place and rarely travel, I realized that the likelihood of Cecilia popping up here was nil to none and so I went to check the flowers out. It was a lovely summer bouquet filled with roses and tulips and baby's breath. A card stuck out of the top and I quickly read it. The flowers were from Maya, the office manager, and the card was a mixture of, 'Congratulations on your recent promotion,' and, 'I'm sorry for our recent dust-up.'

I immediately headed to Maya's office where I found her, as usual, perched Indian style in the chair behind her desk. She was a diminutive woman who should have been over-shadowed by the abundance of filing cabinets in her office. Instead, her strong personality seemed to eclipse them.

Upon seeing me, Maya leapt from the chair and came around the desk to greet me, barefoot as usual. (Maya's determination to leave her shoes under her desk was a constant bone of contention with Pia.) "How are you doing? I've been so worried about you!"

"I'm fine," I assured her.

"Look, I just wanted to say I'm sorry about our getting off on the wrong foot."

"No, getting off on the wrong foot was what Simone and I did. You and I, well, we just kind of-"

"Fell off the deep end?" she supplied.

"Something like that," I chuckled.

Maya leaned against her desk. "It's just that, I liked you so much from the second I met you. You weren't at all like that one Pia had before you."

"You mentioned her once. Cat, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," Maya frowned. "She was a sneak and a liar. Though now that I think about it, not nearly as bad as Corey."

"Yeah, well, he was pretty bad."

"No joke. Though, at least he didn't try to get me fired."

"No, if you'd gotten in his way, he probably would've just had you killed. So much better in the grand scheme of things."

"Okay, so there are worse things. Still, I love my job, and the thought of losing it over a little schemer like that! Oh! It just burns me!"

"I can tell." Maya's fuming was leaving a dark red stain on both cheeks and her eyes snapped like firecrackers. This was not a woman I would mess with. She may be tiny, but right now she looked downright dangerous. "Why _did_ Cat try to get you fired?"

Maya shrugged. "Dunno. To this day I have no idea what she was thinking. I only know she began telling Pia tall tales about me fudging the receipts and skimming off the top. I was pissed!"

"I bet!"

"Naturally Pia didn't believe her, but anyway, after Cat, I was a bit of a raw nerve. So when all those strange things began happening, and you were the new kid on the block, well, I just put two and two together-"

"And came out with five?"

She flashed me a wry grin. "Yeah. Sorry."

"Hey, no problem. If I'd been in your position, I'd've been wondering too. Actually, I kind of was anyway. I even told the police to lock me up."

"You what?!"

I nodded. "Yeah, I told them I was some kind of Mata Hari. A danger to society and all that. So, I told them to lock me up. Then I started dating one of them."

She laughed. "Pia says you're dating that cute one, Stern?"

"Jase."

"Maybe we can go out for lunch sometime and gossip about him?"

"As long as you promise not to accuse me of murder anymore."

"It _would_ help if you'd stop being found standing over dead bodies."

"I can't make any guarantees. Though, that's certainly one I'd like to make."

"No doubt." Then, "Have you met Zoe yet?"

"Yeah, just now. Why?"

"What did you think of her?"

I shrugged. "Hard to say. I only saw her for like ten seconds. She seems eager though."

"She is that," Maya said dryly. "Almost too eager. And perky. Annoyingly perky. Every day she comes in here and practically sings, 'Good mooorrr-ning!' I want to kill her."

"Please, don't do that. We've had enough murders around here to last us a lifetime."

"I suppose. Still, it's irritating. It's morning. What the hell's so good about that? And that thing Pia does with everyone, taking them out and buying them a new wardrobe so that they are, 'dressed in a presentable fashion,'" here Maya made air quotes with her fingers. "Do you think she did that with little Miss Zoe? No, she did not. Turns out, Zoe's the only child of some very wealthy family. Like so wealthy they invented wealthy. Anyway, her clothing was more than up to standards and so she didn't have to suffer the humiliation of being sized and fitted and treated like some life-sized Barbie doll." Maya gave the high-heeled shoes slumbering under her desk a vicious kick.

Obviously she was bearing even more of a grudge than I had after my own adventures with Pia. I had spent a full day being dragged from store to store, re-outfitting every part of my wardrobe down to the lingerie. If that wasn't enough, we had rounded out the day with some heavy duty waxing and the full works at a salon. I thought I had been in hell at the time, but having been for the most part pleased with the outcome, especially since they had _not_ cut my hair- the one place I had put my foot down- I had quickly gotten over it. Apparently, not so with Maya.

Hesitant as I was to redirect her temper toward me, not to mention take the chance on putting an end to our tentative truce, I said, "It wasn't so bad. For me anyway."

Maya rolled her eyes. "I swear, if I had heard one more word about my height, I probably would have blown my top and quit on the spot."

I laughed. Maya has the opposite problem of me. Where Maya can't reach five foot without the assistance of heels, anything more than two inches puts me over six. "I get what you mean. I was too tall."

"It's so trivial I shouldn't let it annoy me. But for some reason it gets to me. I mean, the last time Pia saw fit to skip that clothing option was with Simone, and look at her. The woman's barely tolerable. It makes me think that the people in this world who have fashion sense have used up all their personality on that." She fluffed her pixie-cut hairdo and smirked. "Just look at me, no fashion sense, but loads of personality."

"Maybe all that Botox kills their brain along with their wrinkles," I offered.

"Probably," Maya laughed. "They don't call it tox for nothin'. Anyway, I've still got a bunch of invoices left to handle. Plus Giorgio's got me helping with this inventory thing he's doing. I'm gonna be looking up records late into my fifties at this rate." She gestured at all the filing cabinets. "I'll talk to you later, 'kay?"

I spent the rest of the day shopping for office supplies and setting up my new workspace. When I was through, I was quite happy with the results. It was organized and functional without being overly stuffy. I couldn't wait to come back to work the next day. I was so lost in thought and excited that I had completely forgotten about Cecilia.

Stepping into the guest house was all the reminder I needed.

Chapter Five

The house was an absolute shambles. Every cabinet in the kitchen was hanging open, dishes were everywhere, sofa pillows were torn to shreds and the stuffing flung about. Two chairs were overturned, as was the coffee table. Everywhere I looked was complete, unadulterated destruction. Considering what I was facing now, I was terrified to check the bedrooms.

My sketch book!

I raced into the guest bedroom and found the room destroyed as much as the living area had been, with the exception that this destruction was far more costly. My oil paints had been spattered everywhere- the floor, the walls, the furniture and all the blank canvases. Not to mention the one I had currently been working on, which thankfully had only the sketch of the still life.

I scrounged through the mess, flinging the torn bedspread and pillows aside, digging through blankets and canvases and papers, and finally found my sketchbook- saints be praised!- unscathed. With that under my arm, I marched down the driveway, heading to the main house. Pia was going to have to see this. Luckily, Pia's husband Bernard was out of town (as he usually was).

Pia was stunned and distressed by the sight of the devastation, less so than Gloria, who only said, "Man, when you throw a party, you _really_ throw a party!"

Naturally, Pia couldn't hear Gloria's snide remark and, used as she was to my speaking to ghosts in her presence, completely ignored my less than eloquent remark as she continued placing a call to Olivia. Pia insisted that Olivia come right over to perform another cleansing, though, for the life of me, I couldn't help but to wonder what good that might do. Olivia had obviously failed the first time.

While we waited for Olivia, I explained the incident with the vase, to which Pia paled. "You should have told me right away! We might have avoided this."

"I'm sorry. It wasn't like I could address it in front of my mother and Jase, and since then, well I just kind of forgot. I meant to tell you today, but things were so hectic at the gallery that it slipped my mind."

At that moment Alex popped in. "When she does a job, she really does a job, eh?"

"It's about time you showed up!" I was annoyed at him. _Really_ annoyed.

Pia looked around her with wide, startled eyes. "It's not _that_ one is it?" she whispered. ('Cause everyone knows ghosts can't hear you if you whisper.)

"No, Pia, it's not that one. It's the other one. The lying, conniving, annoying one."

"Hey!" This came from both ghosts.

I pointed at Alex and said to Gloria, "I meant him."

"Well, I should certainly hope so," she huffed. "I'm not the gigolo that caused all this ruckus!"

"Hey!" Again from Alex.

"Don't waste my time acting all put out! Just tell me what the hell is going on here, Alex? What's up with Cecilia and why is she doing this to me?"

"I told you I needed you to help me get rid of her. Didn't I tell you she would be trouble?"

"That's not exactly what you said, no. What you said was, and I quote, 'You have to help me find my murderer, or else I'll be forced to haunt you forever!' So, did Cecilia really murder you, or is that just another one of your stories?"

"It depends on how you look at it. She murdered the essential part of me; the dreamer, the idealist, the visionary that was me."

"Don't give me all that fantasy garbage. Tell me the truth. I want the cold, hard facts. Did Cecilia, or did she not, murder you? Not your 'essence,' but your actually living, breathing, being?"

For an answer, Alex disappeared.

"Great," I sighed. Turning to Gloria, I said, "I don't suppose _you_ have any idea what this is about?"

"Not really. You know Alex, he wouldn't know how to tell the truth if the words were falling out of his mouth. And Cecilia, well, let's just say that one's another story entirely. She's one bad-ass banshee."

"Obviously."

Olivia showed up then, her deceased husband Jean-Luc by her side as usual, and taking one look about her she said, "This is some serious mishegaas. What you've got here is a poltergeist."

"I had that figured out," I told her. "What I want to know is, can you get rid of her?"

"Dear, that is _not_ how you ask a friend for a favor," Pia admonished.

Olivia puffed up her already enormous chest. "Well, of course I can. What kind of medium do you think I am?"

That was debatable, but I said nothing.

"Mediocre at best." Obviously Gloria had no such qualms.

"Do you hear that buzzing?" Olivia asked.

"Gloria's here," I told her.

"That figures," Olivia scowled. There was no love lost between Olivia and Gloria, primarily due to the fact that Gloria had been conducting an illicit affair with Olivia's husband at the time of their mutual deaths. Needless to say, Olivia had avoided speaking to Gloria ever since, and while for the most part Olivia heard a buzzing noise whenever ghosts were about, she really had to concentrate to hear what they were saying. She was not about to waste that effort on her longtime enemy. "I don't suppose I can get rid of the other one while I'm at it?" Olivia asked Pia.

"We've had this discussion before, Olivia. The answer is still the same."

"I should charge you extra for the inconvenience," Olivia grumped.

"Wait? What? I'm being charged for this service? This highly questionable, hey-it-probably-won't-work-any-better-than-it-did-last-time service?"

"I'm beginning to like you a little bit more," said Gloria while Olivia frowned at me, wrinkling the butterfly-tape stitches lined in a neat row on her forehead over one eye. Not long ago Olivia had been clobbered in the face with a wine glass by a very irate and slightly insane artist.

"How's your head by the way?" I added. "Are you sure you're up to snuff?"

"Probably no more addle-pated than she was before," Gloria observed. Jean-Luc scowled at her. Gloria stuck her tongue out at him. Jean-Luc performed a less elegant, but just as silent insult. So nice to know the ghosts surrounding me were so eager to descend into adolescent behavior.

"Knock it off," I told them both.

Olivia's frown deepened.

"They were acting like fools," I explained.

"Any disapproval you sense coming from me, stems more from your flippant attitude toward me, not the ghosts. And, my husband does not act the fool."

"You didn't see what he just did," I muttered.

"I think it's time for you to be quiet, dear," Pia interjected. "You're certainly not helping the situation. Naturally, Olivia, we will be paying you for your services. The same charge as the last time?"

"You know, normally, I really like you," Olivia told me, "but today, not so much. I don't know, maybe you've been hanging around Gloria too long. She'd be a bad influence on anybody. Or maybe it's due to your recently having come out of a coma. It is a scientific fact that oftentimes people's personalities change as a result of illnesses of that extreme nature. Whatever it is, I'm giving you a pass today. But in the future, please try to behave more civilly, or expect a rapid end to our friendship." Turning to Pia, she said, "Yes, darling, as you know, I don't get my supplies for free. And I'm sure my time is worth something."

I realized this last was said for my benefit as well, even if it was directed at Pia, and I must admit, I was feeling at least a little ashamed. Olivia really never had been anything but nice to me and she was right, I was acting more like Gloria than myself. "I'm sorry, Olivia. I'm not myself today."

As if to prove the point, Gloria said, "True dat. I really liked you up until that last bit. Now I'm kind of gagging."

Pushing her sleeves up to her elbows, no easy task since she had elbows the size of an elephant's knees, Olivia said, "First, we'll need to clean this place up."

"What? I need a clean my house in order to _'clean'_ my house?"

She frowned at me again. "That's how it works." I could see her husband peeking over her shoulder. He must either be floating or standing on his tiptoes. He was nodding his head vigorously.

Alrighty then. Time to clean up.

We spent the next several hours doing exactly that, and got most everything back into place, with the exception of those things which had been destroyed and had to be thrown away. I couldn't fail but to notice that Olivia seemed eager to thin out my belongings, asking about each thing, "Are you certain you need this?"

This coming from a woman who draped herself in unnecessary furs and heaps of gaudy jewels, was somewhat infuriating. After the tenth time asking the same question, I looked to see what she was holding, discovered that it was one of my bras, snatched the item in question from her and said, "Yes! I _need_ that! I _need_ _everything_ that belongs to me!"

"No need to get so huffy!" she retorted. "It's just that spiritual unrest is often attached to disorganization. If you have a lot of unnecessary clutter, it's very difficult to get rid of a malicious spirit."

"She's not _my_ ghost! She's Pia's ghost. She's not attached to my things; she's attached to the property."

"Still, it can't hurt to have the place as clean as possible," Olivia insisted. Then looking around at the paint spattered walls and floor, (we had already thrown away the ruined comforter and blankets) she said, "I just wish I knew what to do about this. Normally, I would recommend repainting and re-carpeting before attempting the cleansing, but as we're in an emergency situation here, we hardly have the time for that."

Personally, I thought she was just looking for an excuse as to why the cleansing wouldn't work, because the first time she had done it the place had been vacant. You can't get any cleaner than that.

"We certainly don't have time for that," Pia agreed. "The best I can do is maybe put down a throw rug. I think I have an Oriental at the house that would fit this room."

"No," Olivia shook her head, "that won't work. Cicily's a ghost."

"Cecilia," I corrected, but Olivia ignored me and went on saying, "As a ghost, she's more aware of her surroundings than you or I are. You can't hide things from ghosts the way you can from people. This will have to do. But I strongly urge that you repair this room as soon as possible and then we'll repeat the process."

"Alright." Obviously Pia was on board.

"This is probably the best we can do given the circumstances. But don't be surprised if Cicily comes back."

"Her name is Cecilia," I corrected again.

"Whatever."

"Don't you think it's kind of important to get the name right if you want to banish her? I mean maybe that's how you missed her the last time. Using the wrong name?"

Olivia folded her massive arms over her chest. "I simply cannot work this way, Reid! If you insist on being uncooperative, I'll have to ask you to leave, which could further damage the process. Since it is you who is being attacked, I need you here for the best results, but not if you're not willing to be open-minded."

Now Pia frowned at me as well.

"Stop that," I said, "or you'll need to move up your next Botox appointment."

"Really, darling, what is with you?"

I knew I was being exceptionally snappy, but honestly, I was coming off of a pretty rough time- hey, I'm the one who just came out of a coma here! Add to that coming home to find my house trashed and a good portion of my belongings destroyed- I was your clichéd not-so-happy camper.

"I'm sorry. It's been a little difficult lately," I defended myself. Halfheartedly.

"We all understand that, darling," Pia gave me a squeeze. "But we are trying to help you. You just need to let us."

"Absolutely," I nodded, determined to acquiesce. "You're right, of course."

Okay, so this might not work, but since I really had no other alternatives, I figured I might as well get on board with what I had. _All aboard the crazy train! Next stop, Delirium!_ At least with any luck... "Okay, now what?"

Olivia began to unpack various items from her suitcase-sized purse. I watched as she pulled out a jug of distilled water, numerous candles, matches, incense, and a container of something that looked like salt. "I have everything I need, except the flowers."

"Flowers?" I was clearly concerned. As I recalled, flowers were the last thing I wanted in this house. Especially bouquets nestled in crystal vases...

"I was hardly likely to find a flower shop open at this hour, now was I?" Olivia grouched.

"I have plenty in my garden," Pia offered, quickly avoiding another argument- hey, we were all a little testy- then hurried out to retrieve them.

Meanwhile, I watched as Olivia mixed a concoction of what looked like salt and water, mumbling something about the blending of elements and pure water and pure salt and some other stuff I didn't catch, as she worked.

"What's that for?" I asked.

"It's a sacred prayer, so stop interrupting or it won't work. Keep yourself busy- and quiet- making a list of all those people and ghosts you would like to allow in and out of your home. And don't forget to include any pets."

"And don't forget me, either," Gloria added.

Olivia swatted her hand around her face, as if she were trying to remove a pesky fly. Which, I suppose, in a way she was.

Since neither I nor Pia owned any pets, the latter wasn't really a concern; however, compiling a list of this magnitude wasn't easy. Just when I thought I had included everyone, I thought of someone else I had forgotten. Before long I had filled the page with names. When did I get to know so many people and ghosts?

Pia returned with a bunch of fresh flowers from her garden. No vase, I was relieved to note.

We followed Olivia from room to room, watching as she smeared the water and salt concoction on every wall, doorway and window in each room. She then poured a line of it across the front door and the sliding doors at the rear of the house while reciting the names on my list.

"I think I saw this on Buffy once," I whispered to Pia, "but that was to keep the vampires out. She doesn't have any garlic in that bag does she?"

After this, Olivia went back to each room and lit a candle and some incense within, telling me to let them burn all the way down until they went out on their own.

Great, after the fire destroys the house, there won't be any place left for the ghosts to haunt. Problem solved.

The last thing Olivia did was to lay the bundle of flowers in the center of the coffee table, utter some low prayer over it, and she was done.

"That's it? Some candles and salt-water and we're all done? Really?"

Olivia glared at me. "This is a traditional cleansing. I've performed the ritual for some years quite successfully."

"Well, obviously it wasn't so successful the last time. Isn't there something else you can do? I mean seriously, break out the crosses and Holy water! Let's do a séance, or an exorcism! I want some action here. Better yet, bring on the Ghostbusters vacuum-thingy. Let's put this puppy in a containment unit!"

"She's your friend, you deal with her," Olivia said to Pia before making her exit, Jean-Luc following close behind her, but somehow still shaking his finger at me in a very testy fashion.

"I think you've insulted her," Pia told me.

" _I've_ insulted _her_? She wants me to sleep in a house haunted by a poltergeist under the protection of some candles and the Morton's umbrella! Somehow I don't think that's enough."

"The good news is, I'm still here," Gloria interjected.

Yeah. Fabulous.

"Darling, give it time. This might work, and if not, you heard what Olivia said. I'll call the contractors tomorrow and have them come out and start on this room right away. I wanted to make some changes to it anyway. If you're going to use it as your studio, it needs to be set up properly. I was thinking of knocking out the walk-in closet to give you more room, and maybe adding some cabinets for storage and a few more windows for natural lighting. Also, changing the floor to something more paint friendly."

Pia was talking interior design while I was concerned for my health and well-being.

Still.

I couldn't deny the excitement I felt at the thought of a proper art studio.

Poltergeist! Stay on track!

With more room and the added windows, the space would be perfect.

Hello?! Vengeful ghost- messing up your life here?!

"Track lighting?"

"Of course, darling, whatever you want."

"Okay. But we're gonna have to start talking rent here. I mean, now that I'm not your assistant- come to think of it- Zoe's not moving in now, is she?"

"Lord, no. She lives at home with her parents. Her father is an associate of Bernard's. That's how I found her."

Ah, nothing like family connections to pave your way for you in life.

Moving on.

"Okay, then. We need to settle on rent. I'm not living here for free, that's too much like charity. Besides, I'm making more as your buyer than I was as your assistant, plus, my art seems to be selling well. There's no reason to think I can't afford to pay the norm."

That's where I was wrong. The norm in the Hamptons, as it turns out, is far greater than the norm in Pawling. In fact, I think it's safe to say, I could rent three, maybe four houses, for the price Pia quoted. And not little ones either. More like four bedroom, three bath jobbies.

And maybe a small car too.

Plus a mule.

Should the need arise.

At my, no doubt, dazed expression, Pia said, "And that is why I have never solicited imbursement. I'd be glad to settle upon, say half of that?"

I gulped and nodded. "Yes, please," I said in a very tiny voice.

"All right, then. I'll leave you to get some sleep, with whatever little remains of the time we have to do so, and I'll see you in the morning."

It wasn't until after Pia and Gloria had left that I realized, we had done a bang-up job of deciding trivial things like rent and remodeling, but I still remained in a stasis regarding Cecilia.

I frowned at the stinky burning incense.

Man, I sure hoped it smelled as bad to Cecilia as it did to me.

Chapter Six

"Field trip!"

Well, glad to see Pia was excited.

We had been at the gallery less than half an hour when Pia made this announcement. Just as Giorgio had been trying to explain, there was even less artwork stored in the warehouse than Pia had supposed. Several of the crates in the warehouse were empty, as were some the paper-wrapped picture frames. In these cases, the artwork had been removed from the wrappings, the canvases removed their frames, and then the empty framework rewrapped, leaving no one the wiser of the loss. It appeared that the professor had done a far more extensive job than we had ever anticipated. Now Pia was in a rush to refill the warehouse. Thus, the field trip.

I was astounded and overwhelmed when we arrived at the Washington Square Outdoor Art Exhibit in Greenwich. Booths upon booths upon booths of artists and their work extended as far as the eye could see. The show featured established artists, as well as up-and-coming ones, and craft artisans of every kind. There was metalwork, jewelry, ceramics, photography, oil and watercolor paintings, sculptures and crafts. You name it, they had it. It was amazing. By far the largest exhibit I had ever laid eyes on. This was the stuff dreams were made of. This was what I had spent two years fantasizing for myself. The thought that I might be able to exhibit some of my own work here next year (there was no way I could accumulate enough art in time for the next show over Labor Day weekend) made my heart pound.

For today though, the task was not about showing my own work. It was about meeting and greeting as many new artists and students as I could find and passing out business cards. We split up, Simone going the furthest ahead (I figured she thought that way she had a jump on the better artists) with Pia and Zoe not far behind. Gloria was also present, bobbing along over the tops of the booths just to the left of Pia, leaving me to my own devices, and pulling up the rear.

I spent the next two hours or more meeting and greeting artists and students alike, and stopping to admire nearly everything that caught my eye. I was especially interested in talking to the artists whose creations I was most marveling at, although in all fairness, not just for business reasons. I was genuinely thrilled when anyone took a few moments to talk to me, and we gabbed about creativity and art in general, as well as their own personal creations. Often I was so lost in the conversations that I almost forgot to hand out my business cards.

Almost.

By the time I finally caught up with the others, I had passed out nearly all the cards I was carrying and had had several fruitful conversations with budding artists. Overall, I would have called the day a success.

"Well, ladies, how do you think we did?" Pia was saying when I joined them.

"I'm bored," Gloria announced.

"Oh, I think it went very well! What a fantastic day!" Zoe gushed. I could see why Maya would find this annoying.

"What about you, Simone? How did you do, dear?"

"I have several appointments for tomorrow, as well as two contracts all ready to go."

Contracts? Nobody said anything to me about bringing any contracts! I eyed Simone's Louis Vuitton designer briefcase. Damn her for making me look paltry.

"How about you, dear?" Pia was finally addressing me.

"Well, I handed out a lot of business cards. And I did make a few contacts."

"Contacts? You're missing an 'r' in that word." Simone's tone was scathing to say the least. "The point of this exercise was to get con- _tracts_."

"Well, I'm sorry if I failed to measure up to your standards, but in all fairness, the least someone could have done was to explain that to me, instead of leaving me to my own devices. How was I supposed to know I was supposed to bring contracts with me? I haven't even been shown the damn things!"

"You are a _buyer_! The purpose of a buyer is to _buy_!"

"She _does_ have a point," Gloria intoned over the top of her, causing me to miss the next several words. I supposed I owed her a debt of gratitude for that.

"- _should_ be self-evident. And if you bothered to turn on the computer in your office once in awhile, instead of spending your time decorating it, you would have seen the file with the contracts right on your desktop."

"Ladies, ladies," Pia intoned. "Let's not make a scene right here in the middle of the park, shall we? Reid, darling, you are right, of course. I failed in my training of you, being as preoccupied as I have been of late. As soon as we get back to the gallery I shall make sure to show you everything that's on your computer and how to access it."

"Don't worry," Zoe interjected, "it's not hard at all. Pretty basic Windows Office Documents kind of stuff."

Somehow Zoe's attempt to comfort me didn't help at all. "I'm not a rube, you know. I'm perfectly capable of working a computer. I was raised on a dairy farm, not in an Amish community. I am fully aware that an Apple isn't just a fruit and that Windows aren't just for looking through. We _have_ progressed past the abacus, even out in the sticks. Opening and printing documents isn't the issue. It was _never_ having been _told_ about them in the first place."

"Ah, so you have seen a computer before. And here we thought all you had for entertainment was cow tipping," Simone sniped. "Did you at least make some appointments? Or did you just waste your time looking at all the pretty pictures?"

I lifted my chin and returned her glare with a defiant one. "No, I did not. As I said, I made some connections and handed out the business cards. That was all."

"What about contracts? You know _contracts_ \- c-o-n-t-r-a-c-t-s? Those things that bring in the clients?"

"What about hemorrhoids? You know, _hemorrhoids_ \- h-e-m-o-rrhoids? Those things you have the most in common with- being a big pain in the-"

"Reid!" Pia began, but Simone overrode her, "Holy hell, you might just as well have stayed home and dusted the sculptures. At least then you might have been of some use to the gallery."

I was starting to see red. Violent shades of scarlet and crimson. Pink need not apply. "I thought you and Ricky dusted them well enough while you were in the warehouse."

"You bitch!" Simone came at me with her claws extended.

"Touch me with even one of those acrylics and I'll peel them off and feed them to you one at a time!" I threatened. My tone made it clear it was not an empty threat.

I can only assume apprehension of the muscles I had no doubt accumulated over years of 'tipping cows' stayed her advance, because she took a step back, though her face remained a mask of fury. Complete and utter. (No pun intended.)

"Pia!" a woman's voice unwittingly cut through the tense scene like a hot knife through butter. "Pia!" she called again, weaving through a nearby crowd and making her way over to join us. All heads swiveled towards the woman and the reactions were varied and instantaneous.

"Cat," Pia's voice was cold, as was her demeanor. She was completely unaware of Gloria's ambivalent echoing of the name. Although she added an, '-astrophe,' on the end.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Simone's response was more violent, her angry temperament quickly redirecting towards the new arrival.

Zoe just stood there clutching Pia's day-planner to her chest and looking confused.

Meanwhile, I was trying to remember why that name sounded familiar to me.

"Nice to see you, too, Simone," Cat responded, tossing her long, bottle-blond hair over her shoulder. Her demeanor was cool and confident, but her dark eyes shot daggers at Simone. "I'm assuming I'm here for the same reasons you are: looking for potential clientele." With that she snatched the day-planner from Zoe and began to investigate.

"Yep," she said, "just as I thought. Schedule's looking pretty empty, Pia. Needing some new artists?"

Pia wrenched her planner from Cat's grasp and handed it back to Zoe. "Currently, I don't have a shortage of artists. But one never stops looking, does one? And what are you doing these days, Cat? Working the check-out lane at the local grocer?"

"Actually, I'm working for Carl Langevelde." Again with the hair toss, but this time her hair caught in her necklace instead, pulling the chain with it, and slapping her in the face with the turtle pendant dangling from it. The turtle seemed to be wearing a pink rose, whose color almost exactly matched color Cat's face was turning. "I'm his new buyer," she said, returning her necklace to its rightful place under her blouse.

"From assistant to buyer in just a few months. How did you manage that?"

"Cat always did work better from beneath the desk, than behind one," Simone smirked, to which Gloria snickered.

"That's a bit of the pot calling the kettle black, don't you think?" Cat retorted. "The last time I checked, you were doing the samba with Ricky in the warehouse!"

"Turns out, I wasn't the only one taking dance lessons, was I?"

"Maybe he needed a partner that was faster on her feet. I hear age slows you down."

"Let's not air our dirty laundry in the middle of Washington Square, shall we?" Pia interrupted before Simone could make any kind of response. "I'm sure we all have better things to do. Good day to you, Cat, and best of luck in your new endeavor. Simone? Let's head back to the car."

With that, we found ourselves following Pia back to the car. Simone was still bristling, though less at me now and more at Cat, while Zoe tripped along muttering in my ear every step of the way.

"What was that all about? I mean, who's Ricky? And why was Simone doing him in the warehouse? And did she say that other girl was too? I'm so confused."

"Welcome to my world," was all I said.

"Very interesting," Gloria said to no one in particular, though of course she knew I was the only one who could hear her. "Simone's little play boy was actually playing her. I wonder when she found that out? My guess is all those crocodile tears she was spilling back when we were questioning her about the affair, were not for Ricky's death, so much as Ricky's infidelity."

I nodded.

"You really think so?" Zoe chirped.

For the life of me, I had no idea what Zoe thought I had just agreed to.

"I have _got_ to talk to Raphael when we get back! I just can't wait to tell him about what's been going on right under his nose!" Gloria exulted. She was referring to the ghost that hung out in the rafters of the warehouse. Years ago, when the gallery had been a furniture warehouse, Raphael had lived in the loft. Then a fire wiped out his home taking him along with it.

Suddenly, Gloria's spirits sagged a bit. "You don't suppose that Jamaican jackass already knew about this and didn't tell me? He knows how much I love to dish the dirt! Why would he keep something like that from me?"

I could think of a thousand reasons, though I could voice none of them. At least not without looking like a crazy person talking to the air.

The ride home held the potential to be a silent one since Simone was still stewing over her confrontation with Cat (and probably me too), Pia was lost deep in thought, and Gloria was compelled to make her exit. (Ghosts can't do moving vehicles, so even if they are attached to a person, they are forced to disappear while their person is traveling. Come to think of it, I'm not really certain what happens to Gloria when Pia travels, I only know she can't project her image. For all I know she disappears into a stasis in the ether somewhere, only to pop up again when Pia finally comes to a halt. There is at least a small part of me that wonders if Pia shouldn't consider retiring- she's certainly old enough to do so even if she doesn't look like it- and travel- ghost free- for the rest of her days.)

But that's all beside the point. The point is- the car was silent. For a second. Maybe two. And then, Zoe filled the silence with her boundless, annoying energy. She rambled on incessantly about the art fair, speaking in great detail about all the artists she had met and talked to, the various pieces she had seen, the sights, the sounds, the smells, and even the blasted pigeons. I was very nearly at my breaking point when my cell phone rang. After checking the screen and seeing Jase's name, I gladly interrupted the chattering coming from my seat partner, and flipped it open to answer (yes, I have a flip phone, and I'm darn lucky to have that- it's part of the family plan my father pays for and there was no way he was going high-tech smart phone- I'm lucky he considered cell phone service at all).

"Hey, Jase," I murmured, trying to keep my voice low in deference to the other occupants in the car. Actually, in deference to the fact that I preferred not to share my private life with the other occupants in the car.

"Hey, Reid," he replied. I tried not to melt in the backseat at just the sound of his sexy voice. Oh, yeah, I was harboring a crush the size of Mount Rushmore. We'd only had one official date so far, and that had been the one in the hospital so I still wasn't sure how much that counted, but he'd visited me daily during my recuperation, but since I hadn't seen him the day before (thank God considering what had happened to my house) I was already starting to suffer the DTs.

"I was wondering if you might be available tonight. Maybe we can go on a date? You know, restaurant food, maybe a movie. I'll wear jeans and a t-shirt and you wear something a little less open down the back?"

I laughed. "Yeah, the hospital gown was pretty snazzy, but I'll have to see if I can find something to outdo it." I was only half paying attention to the fact that Pia had finally pulled into the gallery lot at the end of the block and was parking the car. The trip from hell was now over, but with Jase on the phone I wasn't nearly as eager to exit the car as I had been only minutes before. Hell, only minutes before I would gladly have thrown myself from the vehicle while speeding down the highway if only to escape Zoe's ceaseless blather.

The sounds of car doors opening and closing naturally led to Jase's asking where I was.

"We just got back from Washington Square, there was an art exhibit," I explained as I filed down the sidewalk, a few steps behind everyone else. "We can talk about it later. So what were you thinking?"

"About what?"

"About the date?" I prodded.

"I just told you, dinner and a movie. Unless there's something else you might be interested in doing? And please don't say art museum, because, honey, that just ain't me. I'd be bored to tears and you'd have to keep waking me up."

"No, not at all," I was quick to say. "Believe me, with my current job I get more than enough art all day long, without doing it at night to. I was wondering where you wanted to eat?" Really, I was wondering _what_ he wanted to eat. I was starving. I'm a girl with a big appetite and very little shame about it. And I love food. All kinds of food.

"Oh, I don't know, whatever sounds good to you. Except Indian. I'm not a big fan."

"I don't think I've ever had any Indian food-" That was as far as I got before the squealing of tires interrupted me.

This was followed by Pia's shriek of, "Reid! Look out!"

Too late.

The next thing I knew, I was pinned between the building and a car.

Chapter Seven

"Why do these things always happen to you?" Gloria was floating above me and looking down at me with very little pity.

Thanks for the support, ghost girl.

While I couldn't see much of anything, (there was a giant fender blocking my view) I seemed to be surprisingly alive. I wiggled my toes. At least I thought I was wiggling them, as I couldn't see my legs, or my feet for that matter, I could only hope they were wiggling. I followed this up by wiggling my fingers.

"Oh, my Lord! Someone call 911!!" I couldn't see her, but I knew it was Pia. Her cultured British tones colored everything she said, even in her panic. Actually, if anything, she sounded even more British now.

_I have a phone,_ I thought. _I can call 911. Better yet, I'm on the phone with a cop, let him do it._

I wiggled my fingers again. No phone.

Hmmm. Now what?

Still under a car. Not really feeling any pain.

But I _would_ like to get out from under the car.

"Reid? Reid!" Pia was apparently scrambling around, or possibly over, the car, from the sounds of things.

"I'm here," I called. Or at least I tried to. I was having a little trouble breathing. Maybe having a two ton car on my chest had something to do with it.

"Did you hear that? Did someone hear that?!" She was shrieking now. I never thought Pia was capable of something as unrefined as shrieking. "Where is she?"

I heard a man's voice, a stranger, saying, "I think she's over here. I can see some hair. Is she blond?"

Oh, my God! I LOST MY HAIR?!

"Reid, darling, don't try and move!" Pia had found her way to me and her voice was coming from somewhere closer now, although I still couldn't see her. "The ambulance is on its way!"

"Yeah, no problem, Pia. Not moving. Not a muscle. Not so much as a twitch," I said. At least I think I said it. I might have thought it. I'm not sure. Again, car pinning me to a building. Life is _not_ good.

I wiggled my fingers and toes again. I was pretty sure I was in shock.

"Here, Pia," I heard Zoe's voice this time. Just what I needed to make a full recovery. How long ago was it that I had considered death as a reasonable method of escape from Zoe? "Here's some water and blankets. I'm pretty sure you're supposed to keep an accident victim warm and hydrated."

"And how do you propose I wrap her in a blanket, Zoe, when I can't even _see_ her?" Pia was shrieking again.

"I'm sorry, I was just trying to help. All I know is to keep her warm."

"Oh, no problem," I said, "I'm pretty warm here. The engine is putting off plenty of heat."

"Dear, Lord! Someone shut off the bloody car!" Pia hollered. She sounded a bit Cockney that time.

Bloody. Was I bleeding all over the car?

"Reid, dear, you have to keep talking to me, please, say something!"

"I'm too tired to talk right now, Pia."

"That's just the point, you can't fall asleep!"

I thought that was only overdose victims, or stuff like that. I wasn't sure. My thoughts were getting pretty muddled.

"Reid?!"

"I'm still here, Pia. I got no place to go." Even I could hear how much my words were slurring. I wondered if I had inhaled too many fumes from the engine and had suffered asphyxiation. "I think I'm ass- ass-fix- a gation." Yeah, not making any sense anymore.

"She's fading! Someone's got to get her out of there now!" The sheer panic in Pia's voice brought me back, at least temporarily, to the land of the living.

"We can't move the car. We have to wait for the rescue squad. We might do more damage to her if we try." It was that strange man again. Damn him, for not letting them rescue me. When I got out of here, I was going to punch him right in his sticking-his-nose-in-other-people's-business nose!

"Yeah, move- car-" I managed.

"What? What, dear? I can't hear what you're saying."

"She said, MOVE THE DAMN CAR!" Gloria was the one shrieking now, useless as the endeavor was. "Hold on, Reid! Just hold on! As good as I make it look, being dead sucks the- well- it just sucks! Trust me on this one!"

I could hear sirens approaching. Or maybe it was the angels' harps. I couldn't be sure. But if it was the angels, they could certainly use a few more lessons.

"Holy shit!" It was Jase!

My heart did a little back flip that kinda hurt. "Jase!"

"What in the hell happened? One minute I was talking to her on the phone and then the next I heard a crash and the phone went dead."

"Yeah, it's over there. And there. And there. It's in about a million pieces." This from Zoe. I was hating her more and more with each passing minute. Maybe not as much as I hated Simone, but she was rapidly working to close the gap.

"I don't give a damn about her phone! Where is she?!"

"Under the car."

"Jase," Pia called. She was crying now, I could hear it in her voice.

"Pia, don't cry," I tried to say, but nothing more would come out.

"I'm trying to get her to keep talking, but she hasn't said anything in the last minute or so. I'm so scared."

"Move over."

There was more rustling then I could feel a hand rummaging around under the car with me. At least I hoped it was a hand. The Hamptons don't have rats, do they?

"Reid? Reid? Can you feel my hand? Reach out to me, honey. Please, try and catch my hand."

"Don't- glass- metal shards- you'll get cut." I was barely whispering now, but somehow he heard me anyway.

"I'm not worried about a few scrapes. Now take my hand."

I wiggled my fingers again, but that was about all the motion I was getting out of my arms. "Can't- can't move-"

"All right, honey, just hold on." He rummaged around some more and then I felt his hand on my hip.

"Oh! That's me- you got-" That was all I could say before I passed out. I was so tired.

I never knew exactly how they got me out from under the car, or for that matter how long it took. When I awoke, it was night and I was in the hospital once more, different room, same set-up, same ghost nurse. It was good to see a familiar face. Even a ghost. Anything was better than staring at that damned fender.

"You're awake," she said to me. "I saw you when they brought you into the ER. I recognized you instantly; it hasn't been that long since you were here before. You know, if you keep this up, they're gonna have to permanently assign you your own room. You're not some kind of repeating suicide attempt are you?"

I shook my head. "No. A car hit me."

"Yeah, you sure look like it."

How bad did I look?

"What? Did you say something?"

It was hard to see in the dim room, but I recognized the voice instantly and assumed the dark figure unfolding itself from the nearby chair was Jase.

"I'll just leave you two alone for a minute," the ghost nurse said, just before she popped out of the room.

He flipped on the bedside lamp, blinding me with the brilliance of it.

"Sorry," he quickly moved to shade my eyes, waiting patiently while they adjusted to the light before removing his hand.

Taking the nurse's call box, he quickly pressed the button then said, "I'm glad it didn't take you days to wake up this time."

"Me too."

"You know, if this keeps up, I'm going to have to buy you a goalie uniform for your birthday. Or maybe a suit of armor. I kind of like the idea of you clanking around everywhere you walk."

"What happened?"

"An elderly man had either taken too much, or not enough, of his medication and fell asleep behind the wheel of his car. The car veered off the road and into the building, with you in between. You're very lucky, it could have been much worse than it was."

"Lucky? I spent a good portion of my afternoon stuck under a car and now I'm back in the hospital. How exactly does luck play into this?"

"By all rights you should be dead. Instead, you have a few fractured ribs, so breathing is going to be a new adventure in pain for the next few weeks (which explained the feeling of having a freight train on my chest), and other than that you have a sprained arm and wrist, some shoulder damage, a few good bruises on your legs, and a minor concussion."

"I've had more concussions than a football player lately, I'm sorta getting used to that."

He kissed my forehead.

"Ow!"

"Sorry. You also have a few bruises on your face."

"My face? How bad? Get me a mirror." Why I should care what my face looked like at a time like this, was anyone's guess. I should be rejoicing that I was alive. I should be thankful that the good Lord chose not to take me at this point in time. I should be thrilled that I was in every sense of the word, a walking miracle. Instead, I was concerned about any damage to my mug. Conceited, I know.

Jase frowned, "Honey, you've scared the hell out of everybody and you are very lucky to be alive. So lucky, in fact, that today is the day you should buy lottery tickets, 'cause with this kinda luck, you're a shoe in."

"Mirror."

"Reid!" Olivia came lumbering in, Jean-Luc bobbing along beside her. "We need to talk! Oh-" She noticed Jase and stopped midstream. "Could we have a moment, please?"

"Yeah, sure," Jase gladly took the first opportunity for escape. "I'll just run down to the cafeteria and grab a coffee."

"Yeah, get me a mirror while you're at it."

"Dear, you don't want to look in a mirror right now do you?" Olivia was flummoxed. "You look atrocious! And what happened to your-"

"She was hit by a car!" Jase interrupted. Glaring at Olivia, he continued, "She's damn lucky to be alive! Try being a little supportive. If you're going to stay and visit her, you need to be a little more careful with your words. No more discussion about her appearance while I'm gone. And no mirrors!" With that he slammed out of the room.

"Well, I never!"

"Olivia, what were you about to say?" I tried to get her back on track.

"Oh, yes! I came as soon as I heard! There's a little something I need to tell you. Something that I hadn't considered before. Something I should have brought up before. Something I-"

"Geez! Just spit it out!"

Meanwhile Jean-Luc continued bobbing about the room, looking here and there, peering under the bed, in the adjoining bathroom, even in the storage cubby that served as a small closet.

"And what, may I ask, is your dearly departed husband doing?"

Olivia fluttered her hands, "Pay no attention to him. He's just doing what I asked him to."

Now he was behind the curtains. "Pay no attention to that man behind the curtains, got it. Of course, if a huge fiery emerald green face appears inside this room, all bets are off."

"What?"

"Never mind. What were you saying?"

"Oh. Well, see, remember that cleansing we did the other night? Well, sometimes, not all the time, mind you, but _sometimes,_ spirits who have been removed, especially forcibly, reattach themselves to another location."

"Okaaaayyy... And?"

She was rubbing her hands together in a fretful manner. "And sometimes they attach themselves to a person. So I'm a little concerned that maybe, just maybe, Cecilia attached herself to you. If that is the case, then there is a slight possibility that she caused your accident."

"What?!"

"Now don't panic. It's as easy to remove as anything."

"It, in this case is _Cecilia_. A poltergeist who for whatever reason does _not_ like me! The last thing I need is to have her dogging my every move like Gloria does with Pia. Especially if she's going to be throwing cars at me!"

At this point Jean-Luc bobbed over to Olivia and began whispering something in her ear.

The ghost nurse reentered the room as well and said, "Where'd your boyfriend go?"

Jean-Luc's whispering picked up speed.

"I sense another presence in the room," Olivia murmured.

That's when it all came together for me.

"Oh, my God! You're a fraud."

"How dare you-!"

"You are. Not a complete fraud, mind you, not a full time fraud. You're a partial fraud. A semi-fraud. A fractional fraud."

"Could you please stop using the word fraud."

"How do you feel about phony? Fake? Flim-flam? Sham? Charlatan?"

"Well, I never!"

"Every bit of information you get from the 'other side' is given to you by Jean-Luc. He's the only ghost you can talk to, isn't he? All you hear from the rest is that buzzing noise. And between Jean-Luc's accent and his determination to whisper everything, it's no wonder you get it all confused."

"Well, I never!"

"So you said before."

Olivia humphed. Then she humphed again. She sputtered a bit. Otherwise, she had no response to my accusation. Which pretty much gave me all the answer I needed.

Jase returned to the room. Catching on instantly to the stare-down that was going on before him, he looked back and forth between us as if he were watching a tennis match. Finally, he said, "Is there something wrong?"

Olivia cleared her throat. "Not at all. Reid, dear, I do hope you get to feeling better. Please, take care of yourself. I'll continue to do what I can about the other matter, of course."

"Of course."

Olivia swept out of the room without another word.

"What was that all about?"

I shrugged. "Ow!" Bad choice.

"Like the joke says, if it hurts, don't do it."

"Whatever. Mirror."

"You really do have a one track mind don't you?"

"I'm stubborn. Get used to it."

Pia chose this moment to come rushing in, Gloria hot on her heels. They were closely followed by Maya who was laden down with an enormous bouquet of flowers as well as what looked like a two foot mummy.

"What the hell is that thing?" I asked Maya, indicating the mummy.

She shrugged as she laid it on the bed beside me. "Hard telling, Robert dropped it off at the gallery and asked me to bring it up to you. My best guess is that it was a teddy bear before he wrapped it in about eight pounds of gauze. These are from all of us at the gallery," she added, setting the bouquet on a nearby table. "There was no card with the bear. Robert just told me to tell you that he and Dane were thinking of you and that if you were trying to commit suicide there were better ways to go about it."

My friends. Their cups runneth over with compassion.

"Darling!" Pia rushed over to the side of my bed. "You have no idea how much you scared me today!"

"I kinda scared myself. Well, not me really, that old man scared me. I hope they took his license away." Although now I was beginning to wonder if it really had been his fault or if a certain poltergeist had her ghostly hands on the steering wheel and her foot on the gas. Not something I wanted to contemplate.

"Oh, I'm sure they did. Or they will, anyway. Not that it matters, his car was completely destroyed."

"Smashed it in that much, did he?"

"That's an understatement. What was whole isn't anymore- they cut that thing into about a dozen pieces trying to get it off of you. You don't know how lucky you were!"

"So everyone keeps telling me. Can I have a mirror?"

"Now that everyone's here," Jase interrupted, "I'm going to head home and clean up a little. I've been lying in motor oil half the afternoon and I'd like to peel some of it off of me. I'll be back later, okay, honey?" Not waiting for a response, he kissed me on the forehead and made a beeline for the door.

"Coward!" I called after him, and then turning back to Pia and Maya said, "Mirror."

"What do you want a mirror for?" Pia frowned. "Now is not the time for make-up."

"Yeah, maybe it's Maybelline, but then again maybe it's not," Gloria remarked. "I mean, Max didn't Factor that kind of damage in. You're more dismay than Almay. Revlon-"

"I get it!" I shouted, forgetting all about Maya standing there. "I look bad, apparently I look awful. I don't need the sarcastic remarks to remind me!"

"Hey, I could do this all day," Gloria snickered.

"No doubt," I muttered.

Maya stood there looking confused for a moment. "I don't think Pia was being sarcastic, Reid, she was just saying there was no need for make-up right now. You just need to rest and worry about recovering."

Pia, on the other hand, had apparently caught on to the fact that Gloria was being a pain in the ass, and said to no one in particular (Gloria), "Now is not the time for derision, anyone who would stoop so low is beyond contempt."

Gloria huffed, but took the hint and shut up.

At least she was being quiet. For once.

"Mirror, please." I was not about to be put off any longer.

"Darling, I really don't think that's important right now-"

"Mirror!"

"Fine," she sighed. "Let me see if I have a compact in my purse." She began to rifle around the contents, withdrawing among other things, three tubes of lipstick, two bottles of lotion, mascara, a check book, a personal calendar, numerous business cards, aspirin, paper clips, pens and a container of hairspray. But no mirror.

Why did I find that so hard to believe?

Fine, if she wasn't going to help me, I'd help myself.

I began to rise from the bed at which both Pia and Maya jumped to my side. "What are you doing? No, dear, you need to stay in bed!"

"I'm going to the bathroom."

"Just wait for the nurse, dear," Pia pleaded, still pushing me, as gently as she could, back onto the bed. "Maya, call the nurse, please!"

Maya began frantically punching the button, the same one Jase had pushed earlier with no results.

"Let- me- go! Ow! You're hurting me!"

"I'm not trying to hurt you, dear. If you'll just cooperate and stay in the bed you won't be getting hurt at all."

"Pia, I have several fractured ribs. Do you really think pushing me around is very safe? You might puncture a lung or something." I know it was mean to prey on her sensitivities like that, I remember how horrified and upset she was earlier, but I was damned if I was going to stay in that bed and not get a gander at whatever everyone was trying so hard to hide from me. I mean, did I look like the elephant man now? Had I been horribly disfigured? Everything felt fine. Nothing felt obscenely swollen. Yet, they were acting as if one of my eyeballs had fallen out of my head and gotten jammed up my nose. Or something of the sort anyway.

Pia, falling for my ruse as easy as pie, quickly let go of me and jumped back. "Oh, no! I don't want to do that! Are you okay? Are you sure you can breathe all right? Please, tell me I didn't make anything worse?"

"I'm fine," I said as I began shuffling towards the bathroom, dragging my IV pole along like it was my best buddy. Since I was still tethered to it, I didn't have much of a choice.

It took me a few seconds of fumbling around the wall searching for the light switch and when I finally found it and turned to face the mirror, I was so shocked and so dismayed at a lack of anything spectacular, that it took me a minute to figure out what was going on. True, I had a giant bruise going across my forehead- remembering the proximity of the bumper earlier that wasn't so hard to believe. There was also a few minor cuts and scratches speckling my face. Shattered glass from either the windshield or the shop window, no doubt. And I was sporting a shiner that was without a doubt going to be quite spectacular when it was finished forming. But my nose wasn't askew. I had two eyes, neither of which were swollen shut. My mouth looked fine. I grinned at myself and inspected my teeth. All present and accounted for. So what was all the fuss about?

I was just turning away from the mirror, fully intending to rejoin Pia and ask the question of the century, when I finally made the connection.

And then I screamed.

Chapter Eight

The nurses plied me with a sedative and Maya and Pia (Gloria in tow) beat a hasty retreat. By the time Jase returned- the low-down, lily livered, yellow-bellied, chicken-hearted deserter that he was- I was feeling the full brunt of the tranquilizer.

But not so much that I couldn't tell him exactly how I was feeling. "Cowardly cowering cowerer." I said. Or something like it. I think it was more, "Cowerrerr-rer-rer."

"How are you feeling?" Jase asked as he peeked around the door and then slowly stepped in. No doubt he was waiting for a volley of objects to come sailing at him. And if I hadn't been too drugged up to get my hands on anything, let alone attempt to throw it, that's exactly what would have happened.

"Drunk. Dishillushunned."

"Huh?"

"Dishillushunned. Ya know- dishappointed, let down, fallencresht. Dishillushunned."

"Ahhh. Disillusioned. And that's crestfallen."

"Wha'ev'r."

"I'm sorry."

"You could've tol' 'em no. Pia could've tol' 'em no."

"I couldn't tell them anything, honey. They had to get you out of there. By any means." He gently took my hand. I was too tired to fight him, so I didn't pull away.

"Bu' my hair!"

"Look, you're not Sampson. Your hair will grow back."

"Until then I'll look like shome baby doll shome li'l brat took the shcissors to and then carted around by what li'l' was left."

It took Jase a minute to decipher this."Pia says she knows some great stylist at some salon that can fix it."

"Roberto."

"Yeah, I think that's what she said."

"Yeah, he did my hair before. He'sh gonna flip hish shit when he sheesh thish."

"It'll be fine," Jase assured me.

"Eashy for you to shay. You shtill go' all your hair."

"Right now, everything's easy for me to say. You, not so much."

"Shut up."

He chuckled. Then, lightly brushing his fingers across the crown of my head, he smoothed back my hair- or what was left of it anyway- and said, "Maybe you can get a pixie cut like Maya's."

"I don' think sho. She'sh cute, I'm an Azamon."

"That's Amazon, honey. And you'd be beautiful in anything."

Beautiful. Was it the drugs talking, or did he really call me beautiful? The wealth of emotion that suddenly flooded through me had tears pricking the backs of my eyes. I blinked rapidly, pushing them away, but Jase noticed anyway.

"Are you in pain? Should I call the nurse?"

"No. I jush wanna go home." The sedative was making me very sleepy, but the thousand and one feelings that just the touch of Jase's fingers was making me feel, were keeping me wide awake. "How long do I have to shtay here?"

"I don't know for sure. A day or two I'd guess."

I sighed. "I'm sho over thish hoshpital."

"I bet you are."

"I wan' my hair back." I couldn't let it go. I was about as low as I could get. Dismal. Dejected. Despondent. Any and all of these words couldn't adequately describe exactly how I was feeling. My hair was the one and only thing I had always loved about myself. It was the single source of pride I could hold on to while I was in school, when everything else about me felt gawky and strange. I had reached the majority of my five foot ten by the time I was twelve and I towered over all of my classmates, male and female, feeling insecure and unattractive. But my hair. My blond, thick, gorgeous hair. Everyone wanted my hair. For that reason I had always worn it long. And now, a large chunk of it, if not all of it, had been sheared off.

"They didn't have a choice. You were pinned against the building, Reid, and you're lucky that most of what was caught was your hair and clothing. If it had been your body, by the time they managed to extricate you, you would have been dead. I for one am quite willing to forfeit your hair for your life."

I sighed. "I get it. That doeshn't mean I have to like it."

He bent down and kissed me then. Not the forehead this time. The lips. The kiss was gentle, but it still managed to curl my toes.

Minutes later he leaned back and said, "How about that? Do you like that?"

"Immenshely."

He smiled and I smiled back. Though not as wide. My face was bruised and felt a bit like I had been pummeled with a bat.

Or a car.

Whatever.

We spent the rest of the night watching television, flipping channels after the late show, and the late, late show, and the late, late, late show were over. The nurse tried to throw Jase out a few times, but failed. He was as determined to stay, as I was to have him stay.

Sometime around three in the morning I drifted off and he must have left, because when I awoke at nine the face looking down at me was not his.

"Who the hell are you?" I was startled out of my smiling wakefulness and into cautious awareness.

"Dr. Timmons," the man smiled down at me. "You're a very lucky young lady."

"So everyone keeps telling me. Now how about you increase my luck by releasing me. I'd like to go home. No offense to your fine establishment, but I'd rather be in my own bed."

"No offense taken," he assured me, not that I cared. "I'm used to that particular request. In my vocation, that's always number one on the hit parade. Let me just examine you and we'll get down to discussing your release."

He went through a number of things, checking my vitals, examining my file, and then discussing my various injuries, at full length and in unnecessary (at least I thought so) detail, finishing with, "So you'll need at least a few more days of full bed rest before you start charging around again."

"You got it. Bed rest. No tootsies on the floor. Can do, doc. Just sign that release form and I'll be on my way."

"Who will be picking you up?" he inquired. Damn him for remembering such things.

I thought for a minute then said, "No problem. I'll just give my boss a call and she'll be here in two shakes of a lion's tail. Or is that lamb? I dunno. Anyway, just sign that form and I'll plant myself on a nice bench outside and wait for Pia."

He shook his head quite decisively. "No, ma'am. I'll sign the release once your ride is here and not a second sooner." He checked his watch. "I'll be in surgery most of the afternoon, so if your ride can be here before, say, one o'clock, that would be best. If not, I'm afraid the release will have to wait until later this evening."

There was no amount of convincing, cajoling, or otherwise coaxing that would change his mind. And since I was unfortunately the sad-sack owner of a now defunct, and as Zoe had so eloquently put it, 'in about a million pieces,' cell phone, I lacked the required numbers to call anyone. I begged the nurse for a phone book, which took her nearly an hour and my constant badgering to locate and I was finally able to call the gallery. Naturally, my call went straight to the machine.

As if that wasn't bad enough, Pia's number was unlisted. As was Robert's, Maya's and Jase's. What was with these people? I was just getting desperate enough to place a call to my mother, the one number I actually knew off the top of my head, and plead for her to make the two hour trek- barely making it within the doctor's narrow timetable - when the phone began to ring. I snatched the receiver up in a hurry and practically shouted hello. I didn't care if Jack the Ripper was on the other end, so long as he promised me a ride home. Before he cut out my liver and other parts. I might have to rethink that.

"Reid? Reid, is that you?"

It was Robert. "Yeah, Robert, it's me."

"Oh, girl, you scared the wits out of us! Dane and I didn't get a wink of sleep last night for worrying about you! That wasn't so bad though, as it led to other more romantic endeavors. But we can talk about that another time. ( _Or not!_ ) I just wanted to see how you were doing."

"I'm fine Robert. The doctor says I can go home now, but I need a ride. I don't suppose you might be available to pick me up?"

"Certainly! We'll be there in two shakes of a lamb's tail! (So it was lamb. Good to know.) See you soon! B'bye!" With that, he hung up the phone.

I instantly hit the nurse's call button, and the nurse returned, bleary eyed. ( _Already? This early in the day? This girl was going to have to get some stamina if she intended to make a career out of working in the hospital!_ ) "What now, Miss Larson?"

"I'm going home now. The doctor said once I had my ride lined up he would release me. Please let him know, since he goes into surgery soon. I really need him to sign that paperwork now. Also, I need my clothes."

She sighed. It was a heavy sound. I almost felt sorry for her.

Almost.

"Well, let's get cracking," I urged. "Time's a-wastin'!"

"I'll let him know. As far as your clothes go, well, you have some personal items in that drawer in the bedside table, other than that I don't think they brought anything when you were admitted."

"What do you mean they didn't bring anything? I wasn't exactly naked on the street you know!"

She sighed again. "I'll check, but I honestly don't think there was anything."

She left me alone in the room. Just me and my thoughts. My belatedly-adding-together-oh-my-God-I-wanted-to-die-of-humiliation thoughts. Suddenly, I recalled the entire conversation with Jase the night before, in full detail. I was pinned to the building by my hair _and_ my clothes. They had to cut my hair off in order to free me. Wouldn't it make sense that they had done the same with my clothes?

Which meant that damn nurse was right. I checked the drawer. One watch, broken, one necklace, also broken, one piece of my cell phone, presumably the part I had still held in my hand, though why they bothered with that was anyone's guess, and nothing else.

Had they removed me from the car stark-assed naked? My face flushed bright red with humiliation at the thought. Even that kind of hurt.

Aside from the panties I was still wearing, the only clothing I currently owned was the fashionable, breezy-up-the-back hospital gown. And I had no number to return Robert's call. Great! Just great!

I would have stomped my feet in frustration, but considering the condition I was in, I probably would have broken a hip, so instead I slumped back onto the bed and pouted. And fumed. And silently fussed. Until Robert and Dane arrived.

"Reid!" Robert flounced in with Dane trailing behind, a little less flouncy.

They both kissed me on the cheek and fussed over my sling, and my various bumps, bruises and scrapes, and then thankfully commiserated quite heavily over my newly shorn hair.

The doctor arrived with the paperwork, a few prescriptions, and his orders in hand. He reviewed these with myself and Dane (he had made the assumption that I would be staying with them, and hey, who was I to argue?) while Robert ran down to the gift shop to see what he could scrounge up. He returned minutes later with a giant balloon bouquet and an array of clothing to delight any sightseer.

There was a pink Hamptons t-shirt, some navy blue gym shorts with 'Hamptons' scrawled across the back in white, and a ball cap. I looked like a tourist's nightmare, but I was going home. I changed as rapidly as I could considering my fractured ribs- Jase wasn't joking, it was a brand new adventure in pain- hanged myself only twice with the sling, and silently lamented the fact that I would be seen in public sans bra, something I hadn't done since I was eleven.

When I was finally ready, I and my body-casted bear were wheeled out by a nurse, while Dane carried my floral bouquet and Robert carried the Mylar one. It was with immense relief that I watched the hospital disappear from the passenger window of Robert's car.

I sat back in the seat and closed my eyes, trying not to feel every bump and jolt along the way. This was the reason that I was so shocked when Robert announced, "We're here!" and I opened my eyes to discover that I was not, in fact, home. Actually, I had no idea _where_ I was. So, of course, I asked.

"Our house, silly!" Robert chuckled. "You didn't think we were going to drop you off at an empty house and leave you to fend for yourself, did you?"

Yeah, I was kinda hoping for exactly that.

Dane helped me from the car and led me up the walk, leaving Robert to juggle the balloons, flowers, and the mummified bear. He led me through the entryway (grand to say the least- it was a two story entry with banisters and balconies as far as the eye could see) and into a nearby sitting room. After making me as comfortable as possible on the over-stuffed sofa, he headed off to the kitchen to get me something to drink.

Robert continued fussing around the room for a moment, finding a place to rest the flowers and balloons, and then handing me the injury bear before leaving the room to call Pia and inform her of where I was.

I was just beginning to drift to sleep- the sofa really was comfortable- when their chef, Jaques, came bustling into the room.

"Mon dieu! Ce qui est arrivé à vous? What has happened to you?!"

I opened my eyes. "Jaques, how are you doing?"

"Much better zen you, I should say! Zey told me what zat bastard professeur did to you, but zen I knew you were okay. Zey said you had gone home. But now? Zees? Mon dieu!"

"I'm fine, Jaques, really. Just a few bumps and bruises, but nothing that won't heal."

"But your hair!"

Thanks. I needed that reminder.

"It'll grow back." I found myself using the same words Jase had spoken the night before. "I'm quite willing to forfeit my hair for my life." Somehow I made it sound believable, although I still wasn't certain how much I believed it myself.

"Mon dieu."

"All right. Enough with the, 'my God's.'" While my French was more than a little rusty, I was able to translate that at least. "I'll be fine. I just need a drink. And some rest."

"Dane eez getting you ze drink right now. I will just run back to ze kitchen and whip you up ze chocolate mousse. Chocolate fixes everything."

The way he pronounced it- 'shaw-coe-lot'- I almost believed him. I wasn't completely sure, but I was willing to risk it. My grumbling stomach echoed the sentiment.

"And somezing more substantial as well!" he added and then disappeared from the room.

Dane returned with a big glass of iced tea, complete with a sprig of mint. I polished it off in no time, but refused the offer for a second glass. I hurt too much to attempt making a foray to the bathroom just now.

Robert joined us saying, "I wasn't able to reach anyone at the gallery, but I left a message on the machine, as well as on Pia's cell."

"Thanks, Robert. I guess I'm going to have to get a new cell." At his questioning look I explained about the demise of my own.

The three of us shared a fantastic lunch, courtesy of one temperamental French chef who felt he owed me one for helping him land a more satisfactory job than he'd had in the past. After we finished eating, Robert and Dane left me to catch up on my sleep, which I did, slumbering quite heavily in a chocolate mousse induced stupor.

It was sometime toward the evening when Pia arrived, her shrill voice reaching me even from the foyer. "Dear, Lord, Robert! You had me nearly frightened to death! I went to the hospital to pick Reid up and was told she had already gone! Jase is ready to put out an APB!"

"I called the gallery and your cell, Pia," Robert defended himself. "What more could I do? Short of smoke signals, there really is no other way of alerting a person."

"The gallery is closed for the day since the street is closed off. They're still trying to clean up the damages from the law office next door. And I didn't check my voice mail until a few minutes ago."

"That's not really my fault, now is it?"

Robert and Pia came bustling into the sitting room, still arguing.

"You should have left her there! You had to know I was intending to pick her up!"

"Well, you certainly weren't in any hurry. And she was!"

"I'm not a child to be argued about," I interjected, slowly sitting up, deliberately ignoring the fact that my movement bore a startling resemblance to Nosferatu's rise out of his coffin. "I'm quite capable of arranging my own ride and would gladly have contacted you Pia, or Jase for that matter, if my cell phone was still in one piece, _which_ it is _not_!" I felt like adding, 'So there!' and maybe a giant raspberry as the exclamation point.

Either I was being childish, or coming off all the drugs was having a detrimental effect on my personality.

"I'm sorry if we worried you, Pia," Dane joined us. "That was not our intent. It's just that Reid was in a hurry to get out of there, and who could blame her really? Naturally, we wanted to help her in any way that we could."

"Of course, Dane, I understand. Forgive me, I'm overreacting."

Robert frowned, "How come when I say it you ignore me, but when Dane parrots it, it's all suddenly, 'Of course, Dane. Forgive me. I'm overreacting.' From you I get vinegar, but for Dane it's so much honey I could puke from the sugar."

"Eloquently spoken," Pia told him and then turned to me. "Reid, you'll need to call Jase. He really is quite worried you know. He was planning another date at the hospital and then when we found out you weren't there, we all began-"

"Flipping out?" I supplied.

"Something like that."

"Well, give me a phone and his number and I'll be glad to call him."

"I don't have his number. I thought you did?"

"In my cell."

"Oh, dear." Pia thought for a moment then said, "Robert, would you mind calling the police station? Maybe they can locate him and pass a message."

"Say please." He was obviously still offended by her earlier attitude.

Pia rolled her eyes and sighed. "Please, Robert, would you be so kind as to call the station and locate Jase?"

"Why, certainly," Robert smiled and flounced out of the room.

Pia placed herself gingerly beside me on the sofa. "How are you feeling, dear?"

"Much better, thanks."

"I thought maybe tomorrow I'd take you to the salon and see what Roberto can do to, well, not to bring up a bad subject, but you know-"

"Pia, stop waffling!" Gloria suddenly popped into the room. "Honestly, it's not as if Reid doesn't know how badly trashed her hair is."

I glared hard at her.

"Well, you're no Joan of Arc you know."

"-anyway, to mend your hair?" Pia was finishing up.

"Gladly. Though I don't think even his genius can tackle this particular problem."

"You'd be surprised. Meanwhile, we have quite a bit to discuss. I've been talking to the contractor about the guest house all day. It's not the one I normally use, but this one does come highly recommended. And he's not all that bad to look at either," Pia chuckled.

Gloria let out a low whistle. "Hottie McHotster," she said, fanning herself with one hand.

Leave it to Pia to hire the eye candy.

"Anyway, he's quite excited about the project. So much so that he was the first to call me after my regular contractor put out the feelers. After walking around the property and actually taking him inside- I hope you don't mind, dear?- ( _too late if I did, now, isn't it?_ ) he came up with a solution that I hadn't even considered and I'm quite excited about."

"What's that?" I'd like to say I was disinterested considering the amount of pain I was in, but, alas, I could not. The thought of a brandy-spankin'-shiny-new art studio had me practically chomping at the bit.

"Rather than refurbishing the existing guest bedroom, he is suggesting that we actually add on to the house and build an entirely new room, one specifically designated as a studio."

"Isn't that a little expensive?" I was alarmed, to say the least. I simply could not afford one penny more in rent and, further, I didn't want to feel any more obligated than I already did. Pia going to enormous expense solely for my benefit would certainly bring on a sense of obligation.

"Not when you think about it, dear. As the contractor- well actually he's an architect and a contractor- anyway, as he mentioned, with me owning a gallery, chances are that I may rent the house out over the next twenty years or more to up-and-coming artists like yourself, thereby recuperating any loss. Not to mention, it adds to the property value."

Obviously she had put some thought into it. Or at least her new contractor/architect had. I just hoped she wasn't allowing herself to be buffaloed by the eye candy as she had with Ricky.

"Anyway, he's working up some drawings which he plans to present to us in a couple of days. I invited him for dinner. I thought maybe the four of us-"

"The four of us?"

"Yes, dear. Bernard and myself, and you and Mike."

"Sounds cozy." I eyed her suspiciously.

"Quite. Anyway, we'll go over the drawings and see what we like."

"Uh huh. And is that all that you have planned?"

"Why, whatever do you mean, dear?"

"Don't play innocent with me, Pia, I can see what you're up to."

"I'm not up to anything," her eyes widened perceptibly.

"I wondered if you would catch on to that," Gloria said as she bobbed along the ceiling. She likes to do that. I think it's because she feels superior being above everyone else in a literal sense. "She's matchmaking, no doubt. I've seen it before."

"Matchmaking? Why are you matchmaking? I don't _need_ a match! In case you haven't noticed, I already have one!"

"Your delicious detective, you mean?" Robert sing-songed as he pranced into the room. "I just got off the phone with him and he's as yummy on the phone as he is in person!"

Dane cleared his throat.

"Sorry, honey," Robert had the decency to flush. "But you have to admit, he is luscious!"

"If I did, you'd be tearing out your hair with jealousy," Dane reminded him.

"You got me there," Robert tittered.

"Getting back on track," I interjected before Robert could take us any further off the subject, "why are you trying to set me up with the architect when I already have Jase?"

"Pia's trying to set you up with someone?" Robert asked incredulously before narrowing his eyes on her. " _Why?_ " A glint of bad temper was beginning to edge into his voice. I wasn't sure if he was being protective of me, or Jase.

"He _was_ very handsome," Gloria told me.

"I just think a girl should keep her options open," Pia said. "Be more open-minded. Besides, I don't see any ring on that finger."

"It's a bit early for a ring, wouldn't you say?"

"My point exactly! You're not officially off the market yet."

"I think Jase might argue that," Robert objected.

"I'm not a prize bull, Pia. I'm not _on_ the market."

"Now you're being deliberately obtuse! My point is, Mike is quite good-looking-"

" _Jase_ is good-looking," Robert and I said in stereo. I shot him a glare. "I can handle this, Robert."

"And he's very strong. You should see his biceps-"

"The cop's ain't too bad either," Gloria said even as I was saying, "I've seen Jase's. They're pretty impressive."

"And he has a fabulous career-"

"Jase has a fabulous career."

"And the potential to make oodles of money, if he doesn't already have it."

Robert and Dane had been watching back and forth, as if they were following a tennis match, and at this they both stayed on me, awaiting my reply. But since I didn't know what kind of money Jase did or did not have, (and to be perfectly honest, didn't really care) I couldn't form any kind of response.

"Well?" Robert prodded.

I sighed. "I got nothing."

Robert visibly deflated. "Well, that's disappointing."

"Sorry to disappoint you."

Meanwhile, Pia sat back on the sofa practically gloating in satisfaction.

"Money isn't everything, Pia," Dane finally joined the argument.

"Maybe not, but never underestimate it," Pia argued.

"Never overestimate it either," I returned.

We were at a stalemate when the doorbell rang.

"Oooohhhh, that's probably him now!" Robert chirped gleefully.

"Him who?" I asked even as Pia said, "Probably who?"

"Jase, of course!"

Pia and I both flushed, though I'm certain for different reasons.

Pia, no doubt, was feeling at least some shame, since, although she disliked policeman as a rule, she did in fact like Jase, and I had no doubt she didn't want to hurt or offend him. God love her, she really only had my best interests at heart. In her very twisted, twisted way.

I on the other hand was not looking forward to presenting Jase with my new touristy version of myself, especially with the bed-head I was no doubt sporting now that I'd lost my baseball cap. I looked around wildly for the stupid thing, but to no avail.

Robert led Jase into the room, introduced him swiftly to Dane, and then offered him a chair and a drink. While Robert and Dane headed to the kitchen to get some refreshments, Jase, ignoring the chair Robert had offered, walked over to me and dropped a shopping bag into my lap with a thump.

"Ouch!"

"That's the least of what you deserve after scaring me half to death," he remarked, taking a seat beside me on the couch, leaving me sandwiched between him and Pia, which considering the conversation that had just passed, had me feeling decidedly uncomfortable.

"Will everyone please take a minute to remember, I _no_ _longer_ have a cell phone! I couldn't _call_ anyone because I don't have any numbers!"

"Ever hear of a phone book?" he challenged.

"Ever hear of an unlisted number?" I disputed.

"You go, girl!" Gloria chimed in.

"Oh." That took some of the wind out of Jase's over-burdened sails.

"Yeah, well, I tried. And if I'd left it up to you people, I'd still be rotting in that hospital, so when Robert called, naturally I jumped at the chance to escape. I didn't mean to worry anyone, I just wanted out of there." I looked down at the bag in my lap. "And what is this?"

"I thought you might want something other than the hospital gown to wear home, though it looks like you did quite nicely," he eyed my sightseer gear. "New in town?"

If it wouldn't have hurt me more than it would him, I would have hit him. Hard.

Instead, I opened the bag and peered inside. He had planned well. None of the clothing was mine and everything was still sporting the tags, so obviously he had done some shopping. There was a pair of jeans (surprisingly the right size), a t-shirt (a little larger than what I normally wore), some underwear (embarrassing), and even a pair of socks and some sneakers. Much better than going barefoot, as I had been since leaving the hospital.

"I checked the sizes on your clothes before they disposed of them. The shirt's a little big, but I figured with all that bandaging around your ribs that might be better. I skipped the bra for the same reason."

I flushed like a schoolgirl with embarrassment at the mention of the bra and sadly didn't have the hair to hide it.

Pia came to my rescue. "If you'd like some help changing, I'd be glad to assist you."

"Yes, thanks," I mumbled to her. Then mumbled another thank you to Jase, before following her out of the room.

Pia led me to the guest bedroom and helped me to strip and clean up, washing me like an invalid and doing the best to style what was left of my hair. Gloria had the good grace to stay in the sitting room while this was going on and for that I was grateful. I'm not sure I could have taken her bobbing about the room while I stood there naked allowing Pia to take care of me. When I was as clean as I was going to get, Pia helped wrangle me into my new clothes and strapped me back into the sling, only strangling me with it once. The finished product was an overall improvement, but by the time we had accomplished the monumental task and returned to the sitting room, I was exhausted and sore beyond reason.

I settled onto the sofa and gratefully accepted the drink and the pills that Robert offered.

"While you were sleeping, Dane ran out and picked up your prescriptions," he told me.

"I hope that's okay?" Dane added.

"Of course! Thank you!" I don't know what I ever did to earn such caring friends, but right now I was flooded with gratitude for them.

"Are any of those Xanax?" Gloria asked. "That's the one thing I truly miss, now that I'm dead."

Well, at least flooded with gratitude for most of them.

I was drifting off to sleep again when Pia finally called a halt to the night saying, "I really should be getting Reid home."

"Oh, you're welcome to spend the night in the guest room if you want," Dane offered.

"No, thank you," I shook my head groggily. "I just really want to go home and sleep in my own bed."

"Come on, dear, let's get you out to the car," Pia was saying, but I was already falling asleep again. What was in that prescription?

"I've got her. You just get her things. I'll take her in the truck and meet you at the house."

The next thing I knew I was being lifted- damn, he really was as strong as he looked, I am no featherweight- and carried out to the truck. To give Jase his due, there was no sign of huffing and puffing along the way. Jase gently maneuvered me into the truck, with little help from me, and I was out again before the engine even started.

When I next awoke it was to an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room- an unfamiliar _purple_ room which immediately told me where I was- and Cecilia bending over me.

"Did she really think bringing you here was gonna keep me away from you?" Cecilia crowed with malevolent delight.

Chapter Nine

"Pia!" I shrieked. I would have jumped out of the bed, but the way I was feeling, moving, let alone jumping, was entirely out of the question.

Cecilia laughed, "That's right, girl, call yo momma! A lot a good that'll do ya!"

"She's not my mother!" I yelled just before calling for Pia again.

"What is it, dear?" Pia came rushing into the room. "They can hear you in Manhattan the way you're screaming!"

"She's here! She's here!"

"Who's here?"

"Cecilia!" Gloria came rushing into the room.

"Cecilia," I repeated, though Pia didn't know that.

"Oh dear, maybe I should call Olivia."

Gloria flew over to Cecilia and began poking her in- or rather through- the chest. "Listen here you nineteen-seventies reject! I don't know what your problem is, but you need to let it go! This girl's been through enough right now! She nearly died the other day and she doesn't need you hounding her! So you can just haul your hash-brownie eating, psychedelic rainbow, banshee butt out of here, or you'll have me to tangle with! And I can tell you right now, I've dealt with a lot worse than you! I slept with Donald Trump!"

I'm not sure what astounded me more. The fact that Gloria had jumped to my defense, or the fact that- wait- what?! "You _slept_ with Donald Trump?"

Gloria cast a glance back at me. "I'm not proud of that."

I shook my head. "Jean-Luc is beginning to make more sense now."

"Are you done?" she glared at me.

"Oh, yes," I fluttered my hands at where she was still standing with her index finger speared through the center of Cecilia's chest. "Please, do go on. Don't let me interrupt you."

"Thank you." Turning back to Cecilia, Gloria continued, "Whatever your problem is, I don't want to revisit it anytime soon. Reid came too close to our side the other day, and _you_ know how _much_ this _sucks_! If you can't squeeze at least an ounce of compassion out of your sorry soul then at least consider this. What will death be like with Reid on this side of the curtain gunning for you all of the time?" With that, she suddenly thrust her hand forward and twisted it inside- literally _inside_ \- Cecilia's chest. The expression Cecilia made was not necessarily one of pain, but certainly one of extreme discomfort.

Almost instantly, Cecilia disappeared out of the room, taking the glass out of a few of the wall hangings with her. Whatever Gloria had done, it had worked.

Pia ducked to the floor, dodging the shower of exploding glass, although I lacked the agility to do the same. What the hell, a few more cuts would be lost in the mélange of injuries that I was currently nursing anyway.

Pia crawled over to me. "I don't want to leave you alone, but there's no phone in this room. I have to go down the hall if I'm to call Olivia."

"It's all right," I told her, belatedly realizing that I was the sole spectator to the specter chronicles. "She's gone now. Gloria chased her off."

"Thank you, Gloria!" Pia announced to the ceiling even though Gloria was off to her left.

"She's over there," I pointed out.

"Oh." Pia turned. "Thank you, Gloria!"

"I heard you just fine the first time," Gloria said. Way to be humble.

"What did you do to her?" I asked.

Gloria shrugged. "It's some weird ghost anomaly. You know how you feel cold when one of us touches you, or God forbid passes through you?"

I shuddered. "Yes." It was an awful feeling. Being touched by the dead left you feeling, well, touched by the dead. There is no other explanation.

"Well, the way I see it, is it magnifies exponentially when the dead touch the dead. It's like dead squared. Anyway, the feeling is awful and we try to avoid each other for that reason."

"Huh. Does it cause any permanent harm?"

"Not that I know of, or I wouldn't have done it," she snorted.

Obviously, Gloria drew the line at sacrificing herself for the good of mankind. Or me.

Pia slowly picked herself up off the floor and began brushing imaginary shards of glass off of her clothing. Who could blame her? Glass had exploded everywhere; there was no doubt, at least some on both of us.

"Let's just get you situated in another room and then I'll call the maid and see if she can come in today. She normally only works on Mondays and Fridays, but with any luck she's available now."

Pia moved me to another room down the hall, this one just as purple as the first, and began pulling open the drapes on the multiple windows lining two walls. "This one's a corner room so it's very sunny. I hope that's all right? The one window faces east, so you'll be an early riser whether you like it or not. The bathroom's right through there," she gestured at a door to the right of a giant armoire. "Is there anything else that I can get you? Something to eat perhaps?"

"Nope, this ought to just about do it," I replied as I made a shuffling beeline for the toilet. Sore as I was, and loathe as I was to move because of it, my bladder had reached maximum capacity and Cecilia's sudden appearance had stimulated its need to empty itself. Which it was about to do, with or without my cooperation or permission.

"I'm going to go make those calls then," Pia called through the doorway as she exited the room, "I'll come up and check on you a little later."

"Thanks, Pia," I called back.

When I had returned from the bathroom, I cast a wistful glance at the bed and then passed it up. Tired as I was, hunger had come to the fore. I needed food. How hard could it be to find the kitchen?

I vastly overestimated my ability to navigate this sprawling house, and instead of finding the staircase, I found my way walking circles in the hallway and entering rooms I probably had no right to enter. I was about to give up when Gloria found me and rescued me from my plight. With her help, I managed to find the kitchen, which was unoccupied, and began rummaging through the fridge. Never mind that I had told Pia I wasn't hungry. Now that my bladder was empty, I was starving!

When Pia found me, I was balanced precariously on a stool at the center island, scarfing down my second peanut butter sandwich, accompanied by my third glass of milk.

"I was wondering where you had gotten off to," she said. "I thought you weren't hungry?"

"Changed my mind," I forced out through a mouthful of sticky peanut butter and doughy white bread.

"Don't talk with your mouth full, it's-"

"Not becoming," I finished. Swallowing, I added, "Yeah, you've told me that before."

"I was going to say, it's a great way to choke," she began rifling through the stack of mail she held in her hands, then finding something of interest to her, she set about opening it. "But you're also right, so I'll let it lie. Do you know anything about this?" She waved what looked like a card at me.

Taking it from her hands, I examined it more closely. It was the same invitation Robert had given me not that long ago. The one to my birthday party. The masquerade birthday party. Apparently, Robert had taken my failure to respond to his suggestion as acquiescence, rather than the forgetfulness it truly was.

"Uuuggghhhh!" I groaned, laying my head on the cool comfort of the stone surface of the island.

"Should I take that as a 'no'?"

"I would," Gloria popped in.

I lifted my head to face them both. "No, not really. I knew about it, I mean, he told me, or rather he suggested it to me. I was supposed to get back to him and I forgot."

Pia waved the invitation, "Doesn't matter. If Robert suggested it, it was already cemented in his own mind. Your response, let alone your opinion, meant nothing. It was already a done deal."

"Great, just great!" I shoved the last of my peanut butter sandwich into the trash can with a little more vicious intent than was necessary considering that it was not out to get me. "Just what I need on top of everything else."

"What? It'll probably be fun. You're acting like it's an invitation to your execution. It's only a party!"

"It may as well be an invitation to my execution the way I feel."

She glanced at the card again. "It's still a few weeks off. I'm sure you'll be mostly recovered by then."

"Not with any luck I won't," I muttered under my breath.

"What's that?"

"Nothing. I'm gonna go lay down."

"Have you called your mother yet?" Pia stopped me.

"No. No phone, remember?"

"Use mine," she shoved her cell at me. "Her number's in my contact list."

"I think I know my mother's number."

"Good. Then use it."

"Pia, I can't possibly do that without causing her undue worry. As soon as she finds out what's going on now, she'll hurry down here quicker than you can say, 'Panicked mother speeding down Route 9!'"

"And how is she supposed to know, if you don't tell her? It's not a video phone for heaven's sake."

"Since when did you start advocating lying to my mother?"

"Since she isn't here and it wouldn't do any good to worry her when it's over and done with and you seem to have come out of it in one piece, albeit a temporarily fractured piece."

There was truth to her words, though somehow, I couldn't help but to think, had I been the one to suggest avoiding the truth with my mother, Pia would have been wholly, doggedly and vociferously against it.

That's Pia for you. If it's her idea, then of course, it's right.

I managed to heal enough over the next few days, to find myself breathing a bit more easily, if only slightly, and taking less of the prescribed painkillers, for which I was entirely grateful since it didn't take long to determine they were the cause of my sluggishness.

Finally, on Monday, Pia determined me well enough for a trip to the spa (although she still insisted I wasn't well enough to move back into the guest house). Unlike the last time we had gone, this time I was actually looking forward to it. I was praying Roberto could somehow help me. Like he could whip out a bottle of some magic formula hair tonic that would instantly grow my hair back.

Hey, it works for Chia pets. They sprout in only a couple of weeks. I've seen the commercials.

Alas, one look at my hair had Roberto nearly in tears.

"Darling! What ees thees that you have done to yourself?!" he wailed in his weird accent. At any given moment his accent managed to be Spanish, French, or Italian, then a bizarre mixture of all of the above. Once I could have sworn he had thrown in a bit of Romanian. I was fairly certain it was all a put-on. The man might be a fraud, but he was a master with hair.

He fiddled with my shorn locks, looking at them this way and that. Sighing and lamenting, scratching his head and rubbing his chin before finally throwing his hands into the air and proclaiming, "However did you theenk zat Roberto could fix this- zis shambles? Zis deesahster? Thees ees nossing short of ze- how do you say it?- ze fiasco!"

"I didn't do this to myself," I informed him a little defensively, willing away the tears that crept into my eyes. If Roberto couldn't help me, then no one could. I felt my lip quiver and quickly bit it to still the motion. I was not going to cry over something as inconsequential as hair. Regardless of how beautiful it had once been. Heavy emphasis on the 'had.'

Seeing my expression, Pia quickly took over, explaining my predicament to Roberto and shamelessly plucking away at any and all of the heartstrings he may have possessed.

All the while she talked, Roberto cooed over my lost hair, petting my head, and then my many injuries, gently fingering my sling, and then back to my head again.

"Okay! I will see what I can do for you!" he suddenly decided. "And no charge. Free for you today! After all that you have been through, why add imbursement to injury, is what I always say!"

He fingered my hair once more, pulling the short ends up and out, toying with the longer ones, hemming and hawing, and did everything but stand on his head. Finally he said, "Okay. I know what to do. I got just the thing."

I sat as patiently as I could, though it was difficult with my ribs being so sore, as Roberto worked over me for nearly an hour. He snipped and cut, then mixed a batch of some bad-smelling substance, stuck tinfoil in my hair and began painting it with a brush. After that, he washed my hair, no easy task since I was not able to lie back comfortably to stick my head in the sink, but Roberto, patiently worked around it all. Finally, after blow-drying my hair, going at me with the scissors again, and then fluffing and spritzing and fluffing once more, he spun the chair around to let me see the mirror.

The girl that looked back at me was not me at all. She looked like an orphan. A young, bruised, battered, childlike, abandoned orphan. I was all things pitiful and pathetic.

I began to cry. Not simple little tears, but the full out snot-flowing, eye-puffing, rib-wrenching, sobbing kind.

"Oh, dear!" Was all Pia said before she folded me into her arms.

Meanwhile, Roberto stood by saying things like, "I have never had thees reaction before. Ees it good, or ees it bad? I do not know."

When I finally had myself at least somewhat under control, Pia handed me a tissue and I blew my nose. After four more tissues, I was finally done.

"I'm sorry, Roberto. I didn't mean to react like that. It's just that I've never had short hair before. And this is, well, very short."

"You did not give me much to be working with!" he glared at me, clearly offended.

"I'm sorry! Please, don't be mad. What you did, well, it's beautiful, it really is! It's just that it's so short!"

For all its shortness, it was attractive. The cut framed my face quite nicely, and the light blonds and darker reds he had used as highlights were very becoming and natural to my skin tone. It was a little longer in front and shorter in the back, with wispy bangs angled across my forehead, I looked just as good as, or better than, dozens of celebrities tripping nightly down their long red carpets. I could not have asked for better. Still, I still wanted my old hair back.

I headed for the bathroom while Pia and Roberto immersed themselves in quiet conversation. I wasn't surprised in the least when I saw Pia's hand dipping into her purse. She was no doubt paying for the service that Roberto had offered free of charge. I supposed paying for his work after creating such a scene in his salon, was the least I could do. I made a mental note to pay Pia back.

Pia was waiting at the door when I returned from the restroom. Holding the door for me, she followed me out of the salon and walked with me to her car. Once we were settled inside the car she began to speak in a tone far too casual to be anything other than a ruse. So of course I instantly knew she was up to something.

"By the way, did I tell you that Mike has the plans ready to review? He's bringing them over tonight."

So much for Pia's thinking I was 'well enough' to take a trip to the salon. She was really just trying to clean me up in order to serve me on a platter to the architect. If I didn't know Pia any better than I did, I might think she was trying to get a bargain by tossing in her buyer as a down payment.

Deciding not to take the bait, I only said, "Isn't that nice? Would you mind dropping by the cell phone store before we head home? I'd really like to get a replacement for my phone."

"Of course, dear. Did you hear what I said?"

"Yes, I heard you just fine. You're reviewing the plans for the remodel tonight. Bully for you."

"That's not at all what I said," she frowned in the rearview mirror. She took a minute to concentrate on finding an opening in the traffic before pulling out and continuing the conversation. "We are all having dinner, dear. I'm even borrowing Jaques from the boys tonight, just to make sure that the dinner is spectacular."

"It's right there, on the left," I interrupted her.

"I see it. I've lived here much longer than you. I think I ought to know my way around."

"What you _ought_ to know," I scolded, "is that I won't allow any matchmaking. I like Jase. Jase likes me. So far we are very happy together and I won't take any chances on hurting that."

"Fine, dear," said Pia.

"Further, if you insist on making matches where there are none to make, I will not only move out of the main house, but the guest house as well!"

"I said, fine, dear."

"And I might just quit and find another gallery."

Pia put the car in park and shut off the engine. "How many times do I have to say 'fine' before you pay attention?"

"What?" I replayed the past few minutes in my mind. "Oh. Sorry. I'm just not used to you giving in so easily. You're normally like a bull in a china shop, full speed ahead, God help anyone who doesn't get out of the way."

"While I resent the unflattering comparison to livestock, I admit that I have a tendency to be a little assertive."

"Pushy."

"Over-ambitious."

"Forceful."

"Are you through?"

"Aggressive."

"I'll wait."

"I'm through."

"Thank you. As I was saying, while I have a tendency towards being assertive," she flashed me a look that spoke clearly of her certainty that I would interrupt once more, registered her astonishment when I didn't, and then went on, "I can also admit when I am wrong. And in regards to Mike, I was wrong. I have had every opportunity to see how well Jase treats you. How kind and caring he is. How considerate and concerned he is. I couldn't ask for anything better for you. He has stolen my heart as much as he has yours.

"So, contrary to whatever you may believe, I took you to the salon today to have your hair done, so that you could look and feel your best tonight at dinner, not because of Mike, but because I invited Jase as well."

With that, Pia got out of the car and closed the door decisively behind her.

"Took the righteousness right out of your sermon, didn't she?" Gloria piped up from the back seat where she had just appeared. Right then I would have given anything to have had the key to Pia's Bentley just so that I could drive off and witness Gloria getting yanked from the backseat.

Instead of driving off, I climbed out of the car, far less limberly than Pia had, and walked around the car to offer my sincerest apology. I found Pia standing there grinning at me, not unlike the Cheshire cat.

"I hope you felt at least a smidgen of guilt back there," she teased.

"Pia! You made me feel terrible! I thought I had really hurt your feelings!"

"Good, you deserved it. And, darling, I'm of British decent. You can't hurt my feelings that easily. I'm too thick-skinned."

We spent the next two hours making my cell phone purchase, which involved me opening an entirely new account since Pia badgered me into purchasing a smart phone, using arguments like, "But think of the uses of the camera alone, dear! In our business a camera could be everything!" and, "You simply _must_ have a data plan. Internet access on the go is imperative. Besides, you need to be able to check your e-mail from anywhere. Not to mention the alerts! I might send you an e-mail that would slip your notice without e-mail alerts!"

As if anything Pia wanted me to know would slip my notice. She wasn't likely to ever e-mail me anything of merit when she could just tell me to my face. And besides, even if she did, no doubt she would follow it up with a phone call and then a visit just to be certain I was informed. Pia was the hammer to my nail. My bent, nearly broken, nail.

When we finally returned to the house, Bernard greeted us at the door and Pia was delighted to hear that Jaques was already working in the kitchen. "Dear, you just go shower and change while I check on Jaques. With the condition you're in, that could take you hours and we don't want you late for dinner."

"But, Pia, all my clothes are in the guest house."

She waved her hands at me, "No, they're not. I moved your clothes and bathroom toiletries over this morning while you were stuffing yourself with peanut butter and bread. Thank God Jaques is here to provide some variety to your menu. Honestly, Bernard, I've never seen a girl sustain herself on peanut butter the way she does."

I frowned. "I don't like to cook and peanut butter's easy. Now about my things. Why on earth would you move my stuff over here without even asking me about it?"

Bernard had the good grace to leave the room, using the excuse that he had some business calls to make.

"Must you really work on business now, darling?" Pia called after him. "We're planning a dinner now you know."

He was smart enough to have gotten far enough away from her to use the excuse that he hadn't heard her and thereby avoid any further conversation. I was going to have to start paying more attention to that man. After all, he'd been married to Pia for a number of years, he had to be a master at dealing with her.

"Oh, well," Pia sighed, once more heading for the kitchen.

I put out a hand to stop her. "Pia, about my things?"

Pia waved her hands dismissively. "Oh, darling! There's no need to thank me! I know your stay is only temporary, but you'll certainly feel more at home surrounded by your own things. Of course, I didn't bring everything."

"Of course," I muttered, but she wasn't listening.

"Anyway, it was nothing, nothing at all! Think nothing of it! Your happiness is all the thanks I need!"

She was awfully self-focused for one of such generous spirit. And she didn't seem to understand that I was not thanking her, that she had, in fact, not been doing me any favors. Try explaining that to Pia though.

Glutton that I am, I tried.

"Pia, I hadn't planned on moving in here, temporarily or otherwise. I was planning on returning to the guest house as soon as possible."

She frowned in consternation. "Well, that just doesn't make any sense, now does it? It will be at least another week until you are able to be on your own and by that time construction will have already started. Naturally you can't stay there in the midst of all that chaos! There's nothing to do but move you in here temporarily."

"Temporarily as in how long?"

"Oh, I don't know. It shouldn't be that long. Mike should be able to give us some idea tonight."

"If you had to hazard a guess, what would it be?"

"Not too long, I'd imagine. In my experience these things are usually pretty quick." She shrugged and headed off for to kitchen once more, this time not allowing me to stop her.

"How quick is pretty quick?" I scurried after her. Or attempted to. It was more of a dragging, breathless, shamble. Kind of like a zombie.

"A month, maybe two?"

I staggered to a halt.

A month.

Maybe two.

Oh, goody.

Chapter Ten

Somehow I managed to get through a shower and into some decent clothing. Not the dress Pia was hoping for- somehow it's hard to pull off a formfitting cocktail dress with your ribs strapped in two inches of bandaging without screaming. Then Pia attended to my make-up, actually doing a brilliant job in hiding most of the bruising on my face. She fussed with my hair a minute, proclaimed me presentable, and then went to ready herself.

Meanwhile, I headed down to the kitchen where Jaques was already hard at work. Pia might have borrowed his services for the evening with Robert and Dane's blessing, but I only hoped she wouldn't decide to try and hire him out from under them.

"Bonjour mademoiselle," Jaques greeted me. "You look more like ze sirloin steak zen ze ground chuck. Improvement, non?"

"Improvement, yes," I agreed. "So what's for supper?"

He opened up the oven and pulled out a roasting pan to display a rack of lamb. My stomach did a bit of a flip-flop. The way my ribs were feeling, I wasn't certain I was up to partaking of anything else's.

He must have sensed my disappointment because he frowned and said, "Do you not like zees?"

"Oh, no, I like lamb just fine. It's just that, well-" I gestured towards my thickly padded middle with the hand that wasn't bound in the sling.

His eyes dropped to my midriff and you could see the light bulb go on over his head. Nodding vigorously, he said, "So you might have liked ze pork shoulder more, non?"

I laughed. "No!"

Jaques clapped his hands together in excitement. "I have solved ze problem! While ze ozers savor ze succulence of my carré d'agneau, for you, I will make ze ratatouille!"

I eyed him suspiciously. "You don't have a rat under your hat do you?"

"What?"

"Never mind. Don't go to any trouble for me. I'm more than happy to eat the lamb." Although I sincerely doubted I would. My ribs ached at just the thought of it.

He began pushing me out of the kitchen. "Go! Allez vous! Let me work!"

I stumbled out before he could cause me any more harm than I'd already suffered. I wandered around the downstairs rooms until I came upon one that wasn't completely decorated in lavender and feminine poof. This room, unlike any other I had seen in the house, had a definite masculine flair. The walls were lined with bookcases and two wingback armchairs flanked a large stone fireplace. It was here that Bernard found me, sometime later. I was relaxing in one of the wingchairs, staring at nothing in particular, only relishing in the lack of anything feminine in the room.

"Ahh, so there you are," Bernard said upon entering the room. "Pia sent me to look for you. The guests are beginning to arrive."

"The guests?" Suddenly I envisioned more than Jase and the architect Pia had spoken of. Visions of Robert and Dane and Olivia all swarming around had me feeling a bit uneasy. I liked these people, but I wasn't feeling up to it just yet.

"Yes, the architect arrived just a few moments ago. We're still waiting on Jase."

"That's it though, right?"

He chuckled and squeezed my good arm. "I know how you feel. Yes, that's it."

I breathed a sigh of relief and followed him into the living room.

We found Pia and Mike looking closely over the plans he had brought with him.

"You didn't get started without us, did you?" Bernard said in a tone that made it clear he really didn't mind.

Pia looked up from where the two were seated on a sofa, bending over diagrams spread out over the coffee table. "Reid, darling, I was beginning to wonder where you'd gotten off to. Reid, Mike Holbeck. Mike, this is Reid Larson, the artist I was telling you about."

Mike rose from the sofa and stuck out a hand, "Nice to meet you, Reid. I've heard so much about you."

And I about him. And Pia hadn't been lying. He was a hunk. He was a hunk of hunk. The guy was dead hot. Tall, muscular, tanned, with a square jaw and brown hair with glints of gold. When he smiled he showed off a line of straight, white teeth that I half expected to sparkle they were so perfect. He was the stuff romance novels were made of.

I forced myself to take a deep breath and then expelled the air in one, long exhale.

I have to admit I was a little shaky when I took his hand to return the handshake. "Nice to meet you, too."

"Pia says you're a fabulous artist. I'd love to see your work sometime."

I blushed a little. "I'll be glad to show it to you. Though most of what I had has already sold. I am working on a few new pieces though."

"Remind me later, Mike, and I'll show you the piece I bought," Pia offered. "It's fantastic. It's called, 'Ghost of the Manor.'"

"I can't wait." He grinned again.

I turned away and began repeating Jase's name like a mantra in my brain.

Speaking of, where was that man?

We spent several long moments reviewing the various designs Mike had brought. The man was an overachiever- he had brought three different designs with him, all of which were phenomenal in their own way. It was going to be hard to choose one. Although, naturally, I wasn't going to put in my two cents. It was Pia's house and Pia's money. She should be the one to decide in the end.

"The one thing I've noticed, Mike," Pia was saying, "is that all three designs call for digging."

He laughed. "Well, that's kind of essential if you want me to pour a foundation. And foundations, well they're not just for code, they kind of help hold the room up."

"How much will that slow the progress?"

"Not as much as having the new attachment fall off the existing building."

"Well, that would be most unfortunate, now wouldn't it?" Bernard said.

"Most," Mike agreed.

"Fine, fine," Pia fluttered her hands. "That just means you'll have to stay here longer," she then said to me.

"What?" For the first time I entered the conversation. "What do you mean stay here longer?"

"When I said one or two months, I wasn't considering a complete excavation. That will take much longer. But no worries! While Mike is hard at work, you will be basking in the comfort of my home without a care in the world!"

Somehow, I couldn't imagine myself being overly comfortable living under Pia's thumb for God only knew how long. But I couldn't exactly say that. Instead, what I said was something akin to, "Mmmggfftttt." Or something nearly as intelligible.

Bernard came to my rescue. "Darling, I believe what Reid is trying to tell you, is that she appreciates her privacy. There is such a thing as too much togetherness."

Again with the hand fluttering. "Nonsense. Reid and I get on like two peas in a pod. She's the Watson to my Sherlock."

"Didn't Watson try to shoot Sherlock once?" I said. I didn't know if that were true or not, I was just making it up. But it sounded plausible.

"No. But I believe Sherlock shot Watson's dog. Or something to the effect. I just remember the poor bugger lying there with his tongue hanging out in the movie. I'm not sure that ever happened in the books though."

Way to miss the point, Pia.

"Whatever you decide," Mike rejoined the conversation, "we'll try to make the construction as limited as possible. Should you decide to remain in your home, we will certainly work around that and try to avoid as much disruption as we can."

"I should go check on Jaques," Pia announced, obviously more concerned with the dinner arrangements than any that had to be made regarding my residence. Of course she wasn't concerned. In Pia's mind the decision was made. Pia hath spoken.

Bernard, Mike and I continued to discuss the plans, the two men weighing and measuring the benefits of each until they finally had the decision down to two.

At that time Pia rejoined us, Gloria hot on her heels. I was surprised it had taken her so long to make her presence known.

"Ooohhh, the eye candy returned!" Gloria rejoiced, repositioning herself to bob directly above the architect. "Just look at those shoulders."

I was trying not to.

"And did you get a load of those arms? The man's got biceps bigger than my thighs!"

I shot her a dirty look, but otherwise made no response.

"Dinner will be ready in ten minutes," Pia announced, quickly followed by, "Bernard, what are you doing with those plans?" She was, of course, referring to the one that Bernard and Mike had ruled out.

"We came down to these two," Mike informed her, obviously not having picked up on the dynamics between Pia and Bernard.

Or Pia and everyone else for that matter.

Pia picked up the cast off design and set it back with the others. "Nothing has been decided yet, so don't deceive yourselves into thinking otherwise. Now, why don't we take a break from schematics and adjourn to the dining room?"

Gloria shifted closer to me for a better angle on Mike as he arose from the sofa and stretched. I looked away as his shirt strained across his very muscular chest threatening to pop at least a few of his buttons.

"Mmm, yummy!" Gloria enthused. "If I was alive, what I couldn't teach that boy! I'd give him a spanking that he'd never forget!"

"What about Jase?" I all but shouted in a strangled voice. Everyone looked at me a little oddly at my sudden outburst. Who could blame them? They had no idea what was going on in my demented brain, not to mention Gloria's even more twisted one.

"All you feeling all right, dear?" Pia fixed me with a concerned stare.

"Oh, yeah. Just wondering what's keeping Jase."

"Oh, I'm sure he'll be along soon. I can't imagine what's keeping him. But I simply cannot hold dinner off any longer. Jaques will have a fit. You know how he is."

I knew exactly how he was. The problem was, I also knew how Pia was.

And my suspicions were confirmed when we sat at the table, 'boy, girl, boy, girl,' per Pia's insistence, with Mike on my right side and Pia and Bernard across from us. I did note that there was another place setting at the end of the table, presumably for Jase, but that didn't settle any of my returning misgivings.

"Pia, you _did_ invite Jase didn't you? I mean, you didn't forget or something?"

"How on earth could I forget such a thing?"

"Easy," Gloria said from where she was bobbing along the ceiling, a la Mary Poppins' tea party. "She forgot 'cause she was trying to set you up with Mr. Architecturally Pleasing Architect."

"That was a bit of a stretch, wasn't it? I mean you were really reaching for that one."

Everyone was staring at me before I realized I had just spoken to Gloria.

Aloud.

Blame it on the drugs.

"I'm sorry dear, I don't think I get what you mean?" Pia asked completely befuddled. No doubt, she wasn't certain whether or not she had been insulted.

Gloria just giggled.

"What? I mean, it was a bit of a stretch you forgetting anything. You never forget. You're like an elephant."

Dear Lord, I was digging myself deeper and deeper. If everyone just let me go, Mike wouldn't have to bring in an excavation team for that foundation.

"While I sincerely do _not_ appreciate any comparison of myself to an overly large, wild beast, I'll forgive you as I'm quite certain you're not yourself with everything that you've undergone lately." She finished the statement with a not-so-subtle eye roll that told me she clearly understood Gloria was in the room.

Thank God, for that at least.

"So, Mike," Bernard changed the subject, "I recognize your surname. Haven't the Holbecks been involved in construction for some time?"

"Yes. My grandfather started the company forty years ago, then it was passed to an uncle before it fell to me. I was lucky in that my uncle continued to run the company while I pursued my degree in architecture before I took over."

"Is architecture something you always knew you wanted to do?"

The two men held the conversation while Jaques began serving our first course of vichyssoise. As usual, I found my appetite instantly and dug in, enjoying my food and allowing the conversation to flow on around me.

We were on the main course, which I was tucking into with the same gusto as I had my soup (I might have scraped the bowl clean if I hadn't thought that Pia would faint dead away at the sight- but I was going to have to see if Jaques had any leftovers), before the conversation was directed my way.

"I love a girl who isn't shy about her food," Mike smiled at me. "I hate those girls who always pick at a leaf or two of lettuce in their salad and say, 'Oh, I'm full.' I find it so false. You just know they're going home and pigging out afterwards."

Now first, let me say, this false platitude is the sort of thing that always annoys me about men. I can even recall having once threatened to dump a plate of spaghetti on Jase's head should he make even the merest mention of an, 'I love a girl with an appetite,' kind of line. It's garbage.

That aside, had Mike bothered to look across the table he might have noticed that Pia was doing precisely what he had described. Maybe not with lettuce leaves, but it was virtually the same thing. He may have just put his foot in it where Pia was concerned.

I waited for the controlled British explosion that I was certain was about to take place and was shocked when several seconds passed without word one from Pia.

Strange. That was not at all like her. Pia was never without words.

Unless, somehow, she hadn't read into the comment the way I had? Maybe I was just being sensitive.

"I hope I haven't insulted you?" Mike said to me then, obviously uncomfortable with the dead silence that had followed his remark.

"No, not at all," I told him.

I was still trying to figure out if I was being overly sensitive when Jase's voice cut across the room. "Well, isn't this cozy?" he said from where he stood in the doorway, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe. There was a definite sarcastic bite to his tone.

"Welcome to our world," Pia said. "I know our ways may seem strange to you, but soon you'll begin to understand why we cater to such trivial social conventions such as greeting people when you enter a room. These simple conventions bring order and structure to a world that might otherwise dwindle into chaos."

_Now_ she was insulted?

"Huh?"

"She said hello," I frowned at Pia.

She frowned back.

It was Bernard who motioned Jase to the empty seat waiting at the end of the table. "Please, Jase, join us."

"As long as I'm not interrupting. Everyone always hates the fifth wheel." He seemed perturbed. Peeved. Piqued. And otherwise annoyed.

What the hell?

Wait?! _Was he jealous?_

While I was finding it hard to believe any man would feel territorial about me of all people- me- the accident prone, bad luck jinx, harbinger of doom, newly shorn sheep. Me!

Wow.

"I don't know about that. I certainly appreciate having a spare on my car." Pia said, missing the point entirely. When I looked at her closer, I began to wonder if she _was_ missing the point. Although she seemed to like Jase personally, there was still the fact that he was a police detective to contend with, and Pia didn't hold policemen in general in high regard. Maybe she was still considering Mike as his replacement.

"Pia, my dearest," Bernard said to his wife, in the sternest tone I'd ever heard him use, "could you run to the kitchen and have Jaques bring out Jase's food?"

"Certainly. Would you like to start with the soup course, or just continue from where we are?"

"Don't go to any trouble on my account. Whatever you're having now will be fine."

While Pia went to the kitchen, Bernard performed introductions, which was just fine by me since I was still more than a little rattled by the thought that Jase might be jealous. And that Pia might still be trying to replace him.

"Oh yeah, I can see the green eyes from here," Gloria said. "That man is seething with envy. Positively seething!"

"Here we are," Pia reentered the room with Jaques close on her heels.

"I am sorry zees eez not my best work. Eet ees very hard to keep zee rack of lamb warm wizout overcooking eet." Jaques was almost as peeved as Jase seemed.

Jase just looked from the food that Jaques had served him, to my half-empty plate of ratatouille and said, "Why is yours different?"

Luckily Jaques hadn't heard him as he was already bustling back into the kitchen, otherwise he might have offered to make Jase the same thing, but thrown a fit all the while he did it. Quickly I explained about my disinterest in ribs lately and Jaques' generosity in accommodating me.

"You seem to have all the men wrapped around your little finger, don't you?" was all Jase said before beginning to eat.

I was helpless and it was Pia who came to my rescue, attempting to change the subject. "So what was it exactly that kept you, Jase?"

He looked over at her. "Nothing much, just the hazards of the job. Crime doesn't stop just because you have dinner plans."

"No, naturally not. Still, I'm sorry you hadn't an opportunity to call. We might have been able to put off the dinner a bit longer. These cell towers are flighty things though, aren't they?"

It was definitely a challenge. Pia had thrown down the gauntlet.

I glared at her.

I was fairly certain Bernard kicked her under the table as she suddenly jolted and slightly winced, an aside from a gas pang I could come up with no other explanation for it.

Jase cocked an eyebrow at her. "You know, in all honesty I couldn't tell you if I had a signal, I never even checked my cell. The force frowns on my handling personal business on company time, as it were. For some reason, they think investigating crime is more important than any dinner party I might be attending."

Pia returned the cocked eyebrow. "Touché. Still, I'm glad you could make it."

One had to wonder.

"Thank you for having me."

"Ah, he's beginning to learn our ways."

"We've been discussing the plans for remodeling the guest house," Bernard interrupted.

"Actually," Pia frowned his way, "we were taking a break from that."

"You're remodeling?" Jase asked.

"Oh, I thought you knew. Well, no worries. Pia wants to add a room to the guest house. A studio. Something more suitable for Reid to pursue her painting."

"Reid never mentioned it."

"Well, to be fair, I kind of had this whole car-crushing-me-into-a-building thing going on, so it just sort of slipped my mind."

Mike dropped his fork. It clanged heavily off the table and onto the floor.

"Should I pick it up for him?" Gloria floated closer to the table.

I tossed her a 'Don't you dare!' look, but otherwise held my tongue.

"I'm sorry," Mike flushed a little as he apologized for the ruckus he had made. "Did you say you were hit by a car?"

"Car-me-building." I performed a little show and tell by clapping my hands roughly together. It hurt. But it was worth it judging by the blanching of Jase's face.

Slipping my arm back into the sling, I continued, "I just got out of the hospital a few days ago. Which is why I failed to mention the remodel. Not really on the top of my list of priorities."

Mike gave a low whistle. "I'd guess not! Well, I'm glad you're okay. You _are_ okay?"

"Couple of fractured ribs, some bumps and bruises and a little shoulder damage. But, on the bright side, only a mild concussion."

At this everyone at the table laughed, but Mike. His confusion was palpable which led Pia to explain. "You don't know our dear, Reid. She's taken more blows to the head than a heavyweight boxer, so the concussion thing's kind of a running joke."

"Oh I see," he said, even though it was evident that he did not.

Jase warmed to me a little then, and slipping a hand across the table to cover mine, he said, "Reid keeps me on my toes; that's for sure."

Either Pia's comment about Mike not knowing me had assured him there was nothing untoward going on, or, my deliberate guilt trip reminder of my recent crisis had brought him around. Whatever it was, I was happy to have him acting normally again.

We finished our meal, topped with a divine dessert of chocolate mousse (I would never tire of the stuff) and returned to the living room where they were back at the plans once more. I was sitting beside Jase on the sofa and at some point I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, Jase and I were in the living room alone.

"I was wondering when you were gonna wake up," he murmured.

"Sorry," I yawned, pulling myself to a sitting position from the more comfortable one I'd had leaning against his shoulder.

"S'okay."

"Where'd everybody go?"

"Mike the mechanic went home," Jase's expression of distaste could not be more pronounced if he'd tried.

"He's an architect. And a contractor."

"Whatever. Pia and Bernard went to bed about an hour ago."

"How long have I been asleep?"

"About two hours. Give or take."

"God, I hope I didn't snore."

"Nope. And the drool was minimal."

I frowned.

"He ain't kidding. It was like looking at a Mastiff," Gloria piped up pointing at the small wet spot on Jase's shoulder. "Way to mark your man." I shot her a dirty look.

Why was she still hanging out if Pia had gone to bed? Wasn't she supposed to be haunting Pia? I would have told her so if it hadn't been for Jase. Instead I said, "Oops. My bad."

"No problem." He stretched and rose from the couch. "But I do need to be heading home. Work in the morning."

I followed him to the door, shared a few goodnight kisses, and headed upstairs to my bedroom. Or at least what was going to be my bedroom until the remodel was done, if Pia had her way.

And let's be real. She would.

Chapter Eleven

Over the days following, I healed at a rapid pace and though Cecilia kept making appearances here and there, she attempted nothing untoward. She just stared a lot. At the beginning Gloria chased her off each time she showed up, but after a few days of no excitement, Gloria got to the point of ignoring her.

Alex on the other hand never made his presence known. I was beginning to wonder where he was. And, if the truth be told, I was missing him just a little bit.

Hey, I know it's crazy, but when a person, or, in this case, a ghost, becomes your constant companion, you start to miss them when they're not around. I only wished Gloria would give me an opportunity to miss her.

Construction on the guest house had already begun. Mike had apparently rushed all the permits and necessary paperwork through, because within two days of our dinner, Mike had shown up with all kinds of excavation equipment and machinery.

Naturally this pleased Pia no end.

It was also making me happy, since I didn't intend to stay one day longer in Pia's house than necessary. Not that she wasn't an excellent hostess, because she was, she and Bernard went out of their way to make me feel wanted and at home. It's just that I preferred having my own space.

Pia was wonderful in allowing me the use of an additional spare room so that I might begin working on my new abstracts and the still life with pears was quickly becoming my favorite. I was thrilled at how it was coming out, far exceeding my expectations for a subject that could easily tend toward the generic (Gloria loved to call it 'mundane'). Aside from a few finishing touches, it was almost ready to show. Pia's excitement at showing it in the gallery told me how much she loved it herself. This was one painting I wasn't sure I could part with. Time would tell, I supposed.

I had removed the sling, if for no other reason than I was tired of choking myself with it. Besides, the sprain in my arm and wrist caused me little to no pain now and I had barely so much as a twinge from my shoulder. If only the same could be said for my ribs. Thankfully, my new haircut was easy to wash and style, which made life a little easier in the rib department since raising my arms over my head was still a new adventure in pain. Of course, that wasn't stopping me from growing my hair back. Just because I could live with it (had in fact lived because of it), didn't mean that I liked it. I wanted my old hair back. And I dreaded the explanation that I was going to have to come up with given that my parents were intending to visit me over my birthday, which was now only a week away.

Robert and Pia had spent the last week (possibly more) collaborating on the elaborate party that they were determined to throw and I had been told in no uncertain terms, not only would I be attending, but I was damn well going to have fun.

So far the only thing that had changed was the venue. They had decided Pia's house was roomier and more conducive to the grand masquerade ball they were still planning. No matter how hard I'd tried, I could not get them to change their minds on that one. I am not one for costumes and frippery. But I guess what I want for my birthday hardly comes into play where Pia is concerned.

Jase was feeling much the same as me, or so he told me when he received his invitation. Of course I told him he was getting out of it no more than I was. We would suffer together. He seemed surprisingly happy at the prospect.

I had only a few more days before I was allowed to go back to work, but in the meantime, Pia had set up a home office for me that allowed me to catch up on everything, including scheduling the appointments with the many potential clients that had called during my absence. Turns out, I didn't do so badly at the park. In fact, so far I had garnered more clients than Pia and Simone put together, especially since two of Simone's 'sure things' had already backed out.

Overall, everything was going swimmingly.

Which should have worried me.

I was sitting in the kitchen enjoying a cup of coffee when Alex suddenly popped in.

"Is she here?"

"Who? Cecilia?"

"Of course, Cecilia! Who else would I be looking for? Aretha Franklin?"

"Is she even dead?"

"Not that I'm aware of, no."

"Oh." I continued sipping my coffee.

"So what have you been doing with yourself?" Alex floated over to the counter and perched on the edge of it.

"Mostly painting. The doctor finally released me to go back to work next week."

"Done anything interesting?"

I assumed he was talking about my painting and said, "Yeah. There's a couple I like. But there's one that's my favorite. It's a still life. It's pretty cool."

"Can I see it?"

"Sure. It's upstairs. Float on up there and check it out."

He pouted. Then changing the subject he said, "They're making a hell of a ruckus over at the guest house."

"So I've noticed."

"How long is this supposed to go on?"

I shrugged. "How should I know? I've never had anything remodeled."

He frowned. "Well, I hope they hurry up."

"Disturbing your sleep, are they?" I took my cup to the sink and began rinsing it out.

"Ghosts don't sleep. You know that."

"Then what's the problem?"

His frown deepened. "If you really must know, the problem is- well, I- I miss you."

"I miss you, too."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Why don't you stay over here until they're done?"

"You know I can't tolerate all this purple. Besides, Cecilia's hanging out over here and I can't stand her even more than I can't stand the purple."

"What's the deal with you two?" I really never had gotten the whole story behind them. And why they hated each other so much. Of course, given Alex's propensity toward fibs, I still didn't even know how he had really died.

"It's a long story."

"It ain't that long, you honky two-timer!" Cecilia made her appearance.

"Now listen here, I've had about enough of you-!"

Cecilia marched over to Alex and began poking him in the chest. I mean really poking him. Not her-hand-going-through poking, but actually making contact and nudging him each time she thrust forward. How was she doing that? "I'll tell you who's had enough! Me! I had enough! Enough of yo' lies! Enough of yo' misrepresentation! Enough of yo' tryin' to make yo'self look the hero! And we both know that ain't the truth!"

Alex sputtered a minute and then fizzled out of the room.

Cecilia turned to me. "And you! You best not to trust him so far as you can throw him! In fact, you just don't trust him anymore than I trust you and you be doin' all right." Then she followed Alex out of the room. Or into thin air. Whatever you want to call it.

I sighed and headed upstairs to finish my pear painting.

Later, after dinner, when we were all sitting around the living room- and by 'we' I mean Pia, Bernard, Jase and myself- Pia brought up the subject of my painting. She was excited to discover that I had finished two of the abstracts and was more than half done with two more. Naturally, she insisted on seeing them. And naturally, Bernard and Jase wanted to see them as well.

Gloria led the way and was in the room long before we got there. "Don't come in here!" she called out to me. "You do _not_ want to see this!"

Of course that only led to me hurrying my steps until I was practically running by the time I reached the room. If anyone thought anything strange in my behavior, they said nothing about it.

"Erk- ack- iiihhh-"

That's pretty much all I could get out when I saw what had been done to my paintings.

Two of the abstracts- the unfinished ones- had been spattered all over with various colors of paint. And not in an abstract, artsy kind of way. More in an I-hate-you-and-I-am-going-to-make-your-life-more-miserable-than-you-can-possibly-conceive-of-because-I-am-a-wretched-vengeful-poltergeist kind of way. Quickly, I flipped these two over so they could not be seen. Luckily, I hadn't gotten far enough in their creation that I couldn't start completely over.

The other two were another story entirely.

The worst being my still life. Dollar signs had been painted on each and every pear in a variety of colors. I wanted to cry. There was no way I could fix this.

Bernard and Pia entered the room, with Jase right behind.

"Well, isn't that interesting?" Pia was the first to speak, taking in my still life.

"Ack-erk."

Yep. Still no intelligible speech coming from these lips.

"What was your inspiration, darling?"

"Hngggfff."

"Are you choking on something? You sound like that cat from that penguin comic strip. You know- the one that ran in the eighties."

"Bill?" Jase offered.

"No, dear. It wasn't Bill. It had something to do with drugs I think."

Having had several of my own conversations like this with Pia, I knew it would take awhile, which was just fine by me. I needed the time to recover from my stroke.

"Drugs? Like, as in marijuana, you mean?" He was baffled.

She shook her head. "No, that's not it. What was it Sherlock took, love?" This she directed at Bernard.

"Cocaine?"

"No, no."

Jase was starting to catch on. "Opium?"

"That's it!"

"There was a comic strip called Opium in the eighties?"

"No, dear, I think it was called Bloomers or something."

"Bloomers as in underwear?"

"No, dear. Anyway, the penguin's name was Opium, I think. Or something close to it."

"Opus from Bloom County?" For whatever reason, Jase was still invested. Pia will do that to you.

"Yes! That's it! And his friend, that cat from the science lab- it was, ooh, let me think-"

" _Bill_ \- _the_ \- _Cat_!" Jase's frustration was beginning to show.

On the other hand, I was starting to breathe again.

"Yes, that's it. Bill the Cat."

"And now we're right back where we started."

"Not at all, dear," Pia argued. "That's not what you said the first time."

"Erg- ack!" He was starting to sound like me.

Meanwhile, Bernard was considering my painting from all angles. "I like it. What do you call it?"

I looked at the painting, now destroyed by a multitude of dollar signs and said the first thing that came to mind. "Still Life with Payers."

"Oh! I see what you did there!" Pia rejoiced. "I like it! I do!"

Jase was too busy trying to untangle his brain to offer any opinion.

"I'd love to buy that one for my office," Bernard proposed.

"Now, we've already discussed that, dearest! No more purchasing Reid's paintings before I've had an opportunity to show them at the gallery. At this rate she'll never have a showing!"

"Still, I want it. Put it in the show, but mark it sold."

Pia frowned. "There's no winning with him."

Which ought to make life very interesting for the two of them, indeed.

"You said you had others?" she then asked, a hopeful twinge to her voice.

"They're not quite ready yet. I can show you those in a few more days."

She was confused. "But, I thought you said you had two done?"

"I was wrong," I began steering the men out of the room."Why don't you two go back downstairs. Pia and I will be there in just a moment."

"Okay," Jase still didn't have the energy to put up a fight and followed docilely along with Bernard.

As soon as they were out of earshot I began hissing to Pia. "I didn't do this! It was Cecilia!"

"Whatever are you talking about?"

"This!" I turned over the other paintings.

"Oh!"

"Yes, oh! And this!" I pointed out a symbol that looked a bit phallic on my other abstract. "And the dollar signs, too."

"Oh, my. We can't possibly show it if it's not entirely your work."

"That's the least of my concerns right now, Pia. I think you're completely missing the point."

She nodded. "Yes, of course. We simply must have Olivia over to perform another cleansing for this house. Cecilia mustn't be allowed to destroy all your hard work in such a manner. Although, honestly, dear, I do like the Still Life with Payers. I can't really say it's been destroyed."

"Maybe not, especially since Bernard wants to buy it. But the others. Pia, they're beyond redemption."

She looked more closely at them. "You're right, dear, they are. I'll have Olivia over tomorrow."

Given my last discussion with Olivia, I wasn't all that certain how that would work out.

Chapter Twelve

I was right. Olivia was still annoyed with me. A thing she made quite clear upon her arrival. "The miserable medium is here!" she announced.

"Whatever are you talking about?" Pia asked her.

Olivia pointed at me. "Ask her, if you really want to know."

Pia turned an icy stare on me. "What did you do?"

"Yes," Gloria chimed in. "Whatever did you do to suck the wind out of the blowhard's sails? I spent a lot of years trying to put her in her place and never succeeded quite like it looks like you have. I even slept with her husband. Which I don't think you did. Did you?"

"Don't be disgusting."

"Gloria! Now is _not_ the time!" Pia caught on right away. "Reid, is there something you'd like to tell me?"

Somehow I felt like a small child being lectured by her parent. Her very angry parent. I wondered if I was about to be grounded. Which considering my life of late, wasn't really posing much of a threat.

"Reid?" she prompted.

"I didn't _do_ anything. And there's not really much to tell." I was rapidly trying to come up with a way to save myself and Olivia too. What Olivia hadn't realized was that I'd had no intention of blowing her cover. I had no interest in becoming the resident medium and was more than happy for Olivia to continue playing that role. If I told Pia what I knew, it was bound to ruin Olivia.

"She called me a fra-"

"Frog! I called her a frog!" I interrupted. A frog? Really? That was the best I could come up with?

"You called her a _frog_?!" Pia was appalled.

Olivia was mystified.

"Well, not on purpose. It was when I was in the hospital. I was on all those sedatives and the pain medicine. They really mess with your brain."

"Still. A frog? Why on earth would you call someone a frog?"

"I don't know. I wasn't seeing very clearly when she came into the room and I-" I dwindled off here. How the hell was I supposed to explain this?

It was Olivia who came to my rescue. "I was suffering from lower back pain that day and I was kind of hunched over. That and my coat, I suppose the shape somewhat resembled-"

"Your _fur_ coat resembled an amphibian?" Pia inquired, adopting about as doubtful an air as one could assume. Hey, she doesn't aspire to be Sherlock for nothing.

"She was _drugged,_ Pia! Stoned. Out of her head." Olivia shambled over to me and hugged me in a very motherly fashion. A smothering, motherly fashion, but nonetheless kind. "I forgive you, dear. You had just experienced quite a trauma and you were not yourself."

I hugged her back. "No, Olivia, I wasn't. I truly am sorry."

And I was. She might be a charlatan, but it wasn't meant in a malicious way. She simply took the information (muddled as it was) that her husband provided her and ran with it. Why it was that she could only speak to Jean-Luc and no one else was anyone's guess, but the services she provided were in an effort to restore comfort, not to swindle anyone out of their money. She was wealthy enough in her own right; she could spend the rest of her life not working and never do without for even a minute.

And for now at least, she was the only one who could help me.

Pia was still suspicious, but seeing peace restored, she let it go, and quickly brought Olivia up to speed on what had happened. Olivia also mentioned her suspicions that Cecilia might now be connected to me. Pia was horrified at the notion that the car accident might not really have been an accident and insisted that something be done immediately

And so it was that Olivia performed another cleansing on the house and then deciding with the nearby construction zone possibly causing a 'disturbance in the force' (I swear that's what she said, Obi Wan), she drove us to her home to perform the ritual on me. I half expected to be sprinkled with the blood of a sacrificial lamb and was pleasantly surprised to find out it involved nothing more gruesome than stinky herbs.

There were no more appearances from Cecilia for the next week, whether that was due to the cleansing ritual or the fact that she knew she had crossed a major line was anyone's guess, but whatever the reason, I was glad for her absence. Alex was also avoiding me, leaving me only Gloria to contend with. Primarily she hounded me wanting information about what I had done to upset Olivia, which of course I never gave her. Obviously she wasn't falling for the frog ruse.

Pia spent the week in a flurry of motion, juggling work at the gallery with final preparations for my birthday party, as well as preparing for the upcoming visit from my parents. I was still worried about how I was going to explain my hair to them, but Pia kept brushing me off saying, "Don't worry. It will all work out, you'll see!"

The excavation crew had dug a humungous hole, far bigger than anything I had anticipated, and then, due to the inclement weather predicted for the weekend, had covered the whole thing in an enormous tarp and roped it off with bright yellow Caution tape. Mike had promised Pia to be back bright and early Monday morning to start pouring the foundation, seeming a little disappointed that she wouldn't allow him to continue working throughout the weekend.

It was the night of my party and I was standing in my room wondering what I was going to wear, when Pia rapped on my door and then entered without waiting for an invitation. Pure Pia. She had a garment bag draped over one shoulder and was balancing two boxes in her other hand. One I recognized as the box with the tiara in it that Robert had given me so long ago.

"What's that?" I asked indicating the garment bag.

"It's your costume," Gloria suddenly floated through the wall. "And just wait until you see it!"

"Why, it's your costume of course. You can't be the belle of your own ball without the appropriate costume, now can you?"

"I wasn't going to wear a costume. I was just planning on wearing my own clothes."

"And go as what? A relocated farm girl? Or better yet, an accident waiting to happen? Honestly, girl, sometimes I don't know what you're thinking."

"That's just mean," I admonished to which she just shrugged.

"There's a fine line between mean and honest, darling, get used to it. Now, let's get a move on. Your parents will be here any minute and you need to be ready when they get here."

She laid the garment bag on the bed, set the tiara box next to it, and turned to stare at me thoughtfully. "I wonder what they're going to be?"

"Probably a dairy farmer and his wife," I muttered.

"You don't think they would do that, do you? I mean, not come in costume to their only daughter's masquerade ball?"

I tried to envision my father in some get-up. I really did. But it wasn't possible. He wasn't the type of man to play dress up. "Considering this isn't the turn of the century which was probably the last time anyone was invited to a masquerade ball-"

"The turn of the century wasn't all that long ago, dear," Pia reminded me.

"You know what I mean. This kind of thing was popular in the early nineteen-hundreds. But now?"

"It's still quite popular in the Hamptons."

"Maybe so, but not in Pawling."

Pia frowned. "No one ever dresses up? Really?"

"Not unless they're trick-or-treating. And they're usually ten."

"How un-fun!"

I shrugged. "It's how it is. Anyway, what's in the bag?"

Even now Gloria was sticking her face through the garment bag in an attempt to get another look. Disturbing really.

"Stop that!" I told her.

"What? It's not like I haven't already seen it," she protested.

"It just looks so- so unsettling," I told her.

"Gloria?" Pia asked.

"Who else," I sighed. "She's sticking her face through the garment bag and it just looks wrong!"

"Gloria, knock it off. We'll get to that in a minute. But first," Pia thrust the second box at me. "Open it! I got you a gift."

Since it was my birthday, I wasn't in the least suspicious. Although, as soon as I opened the box I realized I should have been. "Hair? You got me a box of hair?"

"Not just any hair. Don't you recognize it? That's _your_ hair!"

Pia was excited.

Gloria was put off. "That's gross."

"Really? You stick your face through an object so that half of it disappears and that's okay, but a box of hair is gross? Your perspective is a little skewed." Then turning to Pia I said, "Still, I have to say I'm a bit confused. Why would you save my hair? To remind me of what I lost? I get to see that every day when I look in the mirror. I don't need my hair in a box to remind me."

Having realized that I wasn't putting it together, Pia reached into the box and pulled out two hair pieces. The first had my hair coiled into an elaborate bun and the second was a simple ponytail. "I commissioned Roberto to make these. He said there wasn't quite enough of your own hair, so he did have to mix some other hair into it, but I think he did a brilliant job of hiding it and color matching it. Don't you?" She turned the pieces to and fro so that I might get a better look at them.

"I still don't get it."

Gloria gave an exasperated sigh. "Sometimes you are too stupid for words."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, of course, darling," Pia said, "but do you still need me to explain? Now I'm confused."

"The, 'thank you,' was for Gloria. She was insulting me as usual. It was sarcasm."

"Oh."

"Why are you being so dense?" Apparently Gloria hadn't insulted me enough. "Don't you see? Pia got you the hair pieces so that you could hide the fact that your hair's been cut from your parents."

At the same time Gloria was saying this, Pia was saying, "Darling, the hair pieces are meant to hide the fact that your hair has been cut. You wear the bun with your costume and the ponytail the rest of the week and your parents will _never_ know!"

Somehow, even with the two of them speaking at the same time, I managed to get the gist of what they were saying. "Ooohhhh!"

"How did you ever manage to get through college, is what I'd like to know," Gloria rolled her eyes.

"Why don't you stick your entire head in the garment bag, Gloria, and do us a favor and leave it there."

"I wasn't the one acting the imbecile," was all she said.

I hugged Pia and thanked her and then waited impatiently while she pinned the bun to my head and styled my existing hair around it. When she was done it looked identical to when my hair had been long. It brought tears to my eyes it was so believable.

Tentatively I touched the bun, ignoring the tears slipping from my eyes. "I just can't believe it, Pia. It looks so real."

"Don't be such a sap!" Leave it to Gloria to ruin a moment.

Pia wiped her own tears away saying, "Now, none of that. There's simply no time to waste! Let's get you into your costume so you can get downstairs and then I'll go get myself ready."

She pulled an elaborate gown from the garment bag. It was so stunning it very nearly took my breath away. It was a pale blue, off-the-shoulder ball gown with a full skirt, made of satin and lace, and layers upon layers of ruffles and ruching. Tiny pearls and bits of glitter shone from every tuck; embroidery so detailed it would cross your eyes covered the entirety of the formfitting bodice and trimmed nearly every ruffle. It was obvious I would be the Cinderella of the ball. Which made Pia my fairy godmother. Weird.

Pia helped me into the crinoline and then the gown and then finished me off with the tiara. I barely recognized myself when I looked into the mirror. I was breathtaking to say the least.

"Oh, Pia! Thank you! I can never say thank you enough!" I spun around once again taking in my reflection with awe.

"Don't do that too much. You'll get dizzy and fall down and I'm not sure you could withstand any more head injuries." I was too happy to pay any attention to Gloria's continued sniping.

"I was so worried that it wouldn't get done in time," Pia was saying. "I considered a rental, but after talking with Robert we both agreed that having it custom made would be so much better. And since Karma already had your measurements, it was simple enough."

Karma was the woman who owned the dress shop where Pia took me to buy all my clothes for the gallery after she hired me.

"Did Karma do this?"

"She had one of her designers draw it up and then it took three or four women to finish it."

"It must have cost a lot. Too much! Pia, you shouldn't have!"

"My dear, to see you smile the way you are now, it was worth every cent. You haven't had a lot to smile about lately. Besides, it's your birthday present!"

I shook my head. I just didn't know what to say.

Pia kissed me on the cheek and then headed out of the room. "I'll see you downstairs!"

Thankfully, Gloria followed her.

I spent a few minutes just spinning in front of the mirror and checking myself out at every angle. Conceited, I know. But I couldn't seem to look away.

That's when Alex popped into the room and let out a long, low whistle.

"How do ghosts do that without air?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Same as talking. We more think it than do it. It's hard to explain. Anyway, you look fabulous!"

"Thank you!" I pirouetted for him. "Can you believe this dress? Pia commissioned it from Karma. It all feels like a dream!"

Alex was eyeing my exposed shoulders, not to mention the daring décolletage. "Well, Cinderella, it doesn't look like a dream to me. More like reality on steroids."

If he hadn't been a ghost, I might have been creeped out by the lascivious grin.

Instead, I brought the conversation round to his least favorite subject. "Where have you been hiding out lately? I haven't seen you since Cecilia's last visit."

"I've been keeping an eye on the guest house. Protecting your property and all that."

"Uh-huh. Well, I seem to recall, when we last spoke, you were about to explain the deal regarding Cecilia."

"Don't you have a party to get to?"

"I got time. Explain."

He pouted. "Come on, Reid. I've been bored out of my mind lately with you gone. The guest house is empty again and there's no one to talk to. I only popped over for a visit and to join in the festivities. Can't you cut me a break?"

"Whose fault is it that you've been so bored? Not mine. I told you to hang out over here, but no, you're not willing to hang around for fear Cecilia will pop in. So what's the story, morning glory?"

"I don't want to get into it."

"News flash, pal, I know you haven't been telling me the truth for a long time and I'm over it. Now what's the word on the bird? I want the scandal on the spirit, the scoop on the specter, the poop on the poltergeist. School me on the ghoul. Give me the lowdown on the legend. Call it what you will, but get talking."

He raised an eyebrow at this but said nothing.

"Hey, I can do this all night. Fill me in on the phantom. Enlighten me on the eidolon."

"Eidolon?"

"Ghost in ancient Greek literature. Didn't you ever read Homer?"

"Hardly."

"Doesn't matter. You're avoiding. What's the blather on the banshee-?"

And poof- he was gone.

Figures. He was a liar and a coward. Alex, king of the sidestep.

I spent a few more minutes admiring myself in the mirror and when I finally was able to pry my conceited self away to go downstairs, I discovered a few people had already arrived. Robert and Dane were there of course, dressed as, of all things, Laurel and Hardy. Upon seeing me, Dane immediately stretched his suspenders and gave me the shy grin for which Hardy was famous. Meanwhile, Robert bustled up to me, spun me around and said, "Gorgeous! Simply gorgeous!"

"And you're looking mighty handsome as well, Ollie!"

He removed his bowler, licked his hand, flattened his hair and eyebrows then returned the bowler to his round head. "A lot of weather we've been having lately," he said then twiddled his tie.

"Love it!" I told him.

"Your parents are in the other room," he told me. "And I know your mother's just dying to see you."

"You didn't tell her anything, did you?"

He performed a lip-zipping motion then said, "My lips are sealed!"

"Thank you," I breathed and went to find my parents, who as it turned out, had come dressed precisely as I had predicted- a dairy farmer and his wife. How original.

Fifteen minutes of hugging and exclaiming over how beautiful I looked took place then- mostly from my mother of course- but I could tell Dad was proud too, before some of the other guests began to arrive.

First to come was Olivia, who was dressed as an overly large Marie Antoinette. This could only have been funnier if ghosts could change their physical appearance and Jean-Luc had come as Louis XIV. Even without it though, she was hysterical, unintentional as it may be. I wondered where on earth she had managed to find a Marie Antoinette costume in such a large size.

When Mike arrived, he had taken the easy way out by wearing jeans, construction boots, a work shirt and a hard hat. I was a little disappointed. As was Robert who sidled up to him saying, "So where are the rest of the Village People?" If Mike was offended, he didn't show it.

I hadn't even known Pia had invited him. I hope she wasn't still holding out hope of the two of us making a love connection and, concerned about a repeat performance of Jase's attitude the other night, I steered clear of him as much as possible.

Maya and her husband came as well, dressed as a 1920's gangster and a flapper. They made an adorable pair and I told them so. We chatted for some time, nibbling on hors d'oeuvres and sipping champagne being offered by the catering staff Pia had hired for the evening. The food was delicious, which I completely expected since Jaques was running the kitchen, and I found myself filling up quickly, eager to try everything available.

During the time I had spent talking to Maya, even more people had arrived. Looking around the room I spotted Zoe dressed as Lady Gaga talking to Giorgio who had come as Prince (or the Unknown Artist, or glottal stop, or whatever it is he calls himself these days). Simone wasn't far away, scantily dressed as Cleopatra, with little more than strips of turquoise and gold cloth covering her bosom and a heavy gold necklace and arm bands completing the outfit. I was tempted to offer her an asp. She was all but clinging to Mike, who seemed to be returning her attentions with nearly the same eagerness she was displaying. Judging by the way his piercing gaze kept assaulting the miles of flaunted cleavage, I half expected the two of them to disappear for awhile to one of the rooms upstairs. I only hoped it wouldn't be mine.

Even Karma from the dress shop was there, dolled up as Mae West, and chatting to Roberto from the hair salon who seemed to be dressed as Danny Zuko from Grease. Pia and Robert had obviously been very careful to invite everyone and anyone who had ever crossed my path. I half expected to see the doctor from the hospital, they had been so thorough.

Gloria was in attendance as well and spent most of her time bobbing from guest to guest, eavesdropping on the various conversations. When the night was over, she should be filled to the brim with the latest gossip. At least that would keep her happy for a day or two.

Alex and Cecilia were nowhere to be seen, which didn't really surprise since one (with any luck) had been cleansed or barred or whatever the correct term was, and the other was avoiding me.

I was hanging out by the punch bowl (conveniently set near a large arrangement of hors d'oeuvres trays) watching while Pia played her role of hostess to the hilt, weaving her way throughout the room with Bernard at her side. The two made a striking couple, dressed as Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel from The Lord of the Rings.

I was reaching for another appetizer when Gloria joined me. "Keep eating those and you'll pop right out of that dress. And not in a good way either."

I frowned at her, but returned the hors d'oeuvre to the tray.

"Whatever are you doing, dear?" Pia scolded as she joined us. "You simply don't put food back after you've touched it. Where are your manners?"

"Sorry," I said lamely.

"Speaking of manners, wherever is that boyfriend of yours? Honestly, he's beginning to annoy me."

"I live to serve," Jase said coming up behind us.

Pia eyed him, dressed in his regular clothes, and said, "Nice costume, Jase. What are you? A plain clothes detective?"

"Not a bad idea. And one I had considered." Turning to me, he gave me a quick kiss and said, "Happy Birthday, babe. You look gorgeous!"

"Thank you," I blushed.

"My clothes are in the car," Jase went on to explain. "I didn't know if there was somewhere that I could change?"

"Of course, I'm sorry!" Pia was quick to apologize. "You must forgive me, it's just that I want everything so perfect for Reid's birthday, and then when you were running so late... Well, I jumped to conclusions and got a little touchy I'm afraid."

I nearly fainted at the sound of Pia apologizing. The rarity of this was such that I began preparing for frogs to drop down from the ceiling and a plague of locusts to swarm the room.

Jase, however, took it in stride. "Sorry, I was stuck on a case."

"Anything interesting?" Pia's eyes sparkled. They did that when she was feeling adventurous. Something which usually ended with me getting concussed.

"Nothing I need a couple of Nancy Drews sticking their noses into, if that's what you mean. Besides, it's an open case, I can't discuss it."

Pia stuck her tongue out at him, then led him away to find a place where he could change.

No sooner than they had walked away, then Mike walked up to me. "You look beautiful tonight."

"As opposed to other nights?"

"That's not what I meant at all. I just meant, you look especially beautiful."

"I bet you say that to all the girls," I made a point of looking over at Simone, who was pretending to talk to Robert, but was in actuality seething at the fact that Mike was talking to me.

His gaze followed mine. "Oh, Simone? She's a bit old for me, don't you think?"

Since Mike was closer to her age than mine, I couldn't agree with him. However, I didn't want to insult him, yet I also did not want to encourage any flirtations in my direction, so I said, "I don't know. I think she looks pretty good for her age." Which was in fact true. I may not like the woman, but I had to be honest, she looked a lot younger than she was. Botox and plastic surgeons really could work wonders.

"Still, I think I'll stick with the younger crowd and pass on the middle-aged one."

"Don't let her hear you say that."

He laughed. "Probably best if I didn't." Then, altering course, he asked, "What did you do with your hair? It looks so different than the other night at dinner."

"What's different about it?" my mother asked, suddenly joining us.

Great timing as usual.

"Mom! Are you and Dad having a nice time?" I attempted to change the subject.

She was still eyeballing my hair with her mothers-miss-nothing stare. "What's different about your hair, dear? Did you put highlights in it or something? The color does look slightly different."

"The color looks the same to me," Mike said. "I just meant the length-"

"Yes, it does look different when I ball it all up into a bun like this," I gave him a pointed glare.

Bless him, he seemed to catch on. While it was obvious that he wasn't certain _why_ he shouldn't be talking about my newly shorn hair, he seemed willing to play along. "Still, it does look nice."

"Oh, it's just lovely, dear. Just lovely," my mother agreed. "And the party! Pia's outdone herself, that's for sure. Are you having a good time, Sigreid?"

"Oh, yes!" I replied, beaming a little more widely than necessary.

"More so now that your beau has arrived, no doubt," she smiled. "I was beginning to wonder when that young man was going to show up."

"He's been working on a case," I explained. "Mom, have you met Mike Holbeck? He's the architect that's doing Pia's remodel."

"I don't believe I have," my mother responded, quickly shaking hands with Mike. I could see the calculating look she gave him. She was adding him up and stacking him against Jase.

Not her too...

"So, you're an architect? Do you work for someone else, or do you own your own business?"

"Mom!"

"What? I'm just making conversation."

No, she was beginning the Mother Inquisition for which she was famous. I'd seen her cross-examine a person with more success than Johnnie Cochran, although she was more the prosecuting attorney type, than the defense.

"No, it's quite all right," Mike assured me before answering my mother's question. The poor sop, he didn't know what he was getting himself into. "I inherited the family business and I love what I do."

"Well, isn't that nice? It's so rare to find someone who sincerely loves their work. So many people are stuck in daily drudgery just to make ends meet. But to be blessed with doing something you love in order to put food on the table, well that _is_ something! Not too long ago Reid was working at our farm and waitressing nights just to pay her bills-"

"Mom, I don't think Mike really cares about that."

"Actually, I find it quite interesting," he argued.

Great. Next thing, she'd be telling him how old I was when I potty-trained.

"As I was saying," she cast me a frown, "she was waitressing nights and sometimes washing dishes..."

"If you two will excuse me," I said, moving away from them. This was Mike's chance to prove how interested he truly was in what my mother had to say, and how much of his conviction really had to do with any attempt to make time with me.

"Your mother at it again?" my father joined me.

"You know her."

"Yes, I do. As well as I know you, I'd venture to say."

I locked eyes with him. Something was up, I could tell by the tone in his voice. It was the same tone he'd used the night he'd discovered that I- at the ripe age of fifteen- had been kissing a boy in the loft of our barn. It had been my first kiss, and what should have been a romantic interlude ended up being a totally disastrous encounter, with nearly catastrophic results.

It was during one of the Fourth of July celebrations we hosted annually for our neighbors and friends. It was getting late into the evening and everyone was stuffed on barbecue and homemade ice cream. We were all settling down to wait for the fireworks to start, when Tommy Hillock and his cohorts had decided to pull their cruel prank. At that age I wanted nothing more than to have a boyfriend, so I had fallen hook, line, and sinker when Tommy, a boy I had really never cared much for, had come to me to profess his undying infatuation. He had then asked if there was someplace private we could go. Stupidly, I had brought him up to the barn loft, whereupon he instantly grabbed me and began kissing me. _If_ you could call it kissing. It was more like being attacked by an assault team of snails, the way he latched onto my face, squirming and slobbering, and doing anything but letting go. In my desperation to fit in, I tolerated it. At least until I heard the giggling.

Looking up from below were all of Tommy's friends. One of them had a camera and was attempting to take pictures, but he was laughing too hard to aim the viewfinder. I was mortified. Fury flooded through me, and with all the might I possessed, I pushed Tommy away from me. He tripped over something behind him and toppled over the edge of the loft, landing with a thud in the middle of his friends. I was startled and ashamed by my loss of control. But more than anything else, I was terrified that I might really have hurt him. Paralysis was not unheard of after a fall like that.

Tommy's friends panicked, most of them scattering immediately. Two of them did stay behind to help him, and they picked him up off the floor and dragged him away, shouting threats at me every step of the way.

My father found me long after the fireworks had ended (literal _and_ figurative), still hiding up in the loft, crying my eyes out and planning my escape. I had envisioned all sorts of outcomes, including, but not limited to: my being charged with felonious assault and spending the rest of my natural born life in prison; and my parents losing their farm over the lawsuit that was bound to take place. When I saw my father's head appear over edge of the ladder, my terror only increased. I had no doubt he was going to disown me. Or kill me. Or both.

Instead, he moved over beside me, and we sat in silence for several long minutes. When he finally did speak, it was in a quiet, but firm, tone. "You know, baby girl, you can't hide up in this loft forever. You're at least half to blame for what's happened, and that's something you got to own. But you don't have to let it own you. Life's tricky. Along the way you're bound to make a few mistakes. But if you learn from them, then that's what matters. Tonight you made some. Don't forget them, don't let them go, or you'll never learn. Hold onto them and let them teach you. When you lie down with dogs, you get up with fleas, but when you lie down with jackals, you're bound to get bit. Be careful who you let around you, who you let close to you. And remember, I can't fill my shotgun with buckshot forever. Now let's go inside."

In his own way he had let me know that everything was going to be okay. He wasn't happy about it, but he had taken care of it. To the best of my knowledge, this was a secret my father and I still carried to this day. More importantly, that day I learned something about my father. He always knew. Whatever was going on, whatever was happening, he always knew. But he wasn't like my mother; he didn't tell you what he knew. He just kept you wondering.

Which led me to wonder now, what did he know?

"I'm not sure what you mean, Dad."

My father fingered a curl on the side of my face. "Your hair sure looks lovely tonight. And I have to say, it looks pretty real. My guess is, it _is_ your hair. Just sort of, detached."

I flushed. How did he know this? It was not possible that my father had picked up on it while my mother remained oblivious. "But- how?"

"Like I said, it looks real enough. I've just been overhearing some things wandering around this party. And that man, the one that's talking to your mother right now, he said something to another gal about how different your hair looks tonight. The gal, Cleopatra I think it was, ( _leave it to Simone_ ) she said something back along the lines of, you cutting off your hair was probably the best thing you could have done given your face structure. Course, she said it in a snide manner. I can see that one isn't your friend.

"Anyway, so I had to ask myself, why would my little girl go and cut off her hair when I know how much she loves it? I mean, this is the girl that would scream bloody murder when her mother so much as tried to trim the dead ends. So, I guess what I'm wanting is an answer to my question. Why would you do such a thing?"

I gulped. "Things change, Dad. Sometimes a girl just wants to do something different."

He narrowed his eyes at me. "Well, if you're not going to give me a straight answer, I suppose I could always go and ask your mother her opinion on the subject."

He started to move off in her direction, but I grabbed him by the arm. "Wait! No!"

Crossing his arms over his chest he said, "I'm waiting."

"Okay. Okay. I didn't want to tell you guys, because I didn't see the sense in worrying you anymore than you have been lately. Besides, you were just here because of my last hospital visit, I didn't really want to call you and have you come running back. You have a farm to run."

"I know what my responsibilities are; I really don't need you to tell me."

"Sorry." Quickly, and with as little detail as I could manage, I told him about the accident.

He blanched a bit, but otherwise remained fairly stoic. "I agree with you, it's best to leave your mother out of the loop on this one. No sense loading the shotgun after the fox has already left the coop. Having said that, good luck keeping her out of the loop. Because if I've been hearing things, you know your mother has. She's probably just planning her attack."

"Great."

"Hey, just telling you how it is. I'll never lie to you, baby girl. And one last thing. If you're thinking about going with the contractor guy instead of that policeman, think twice. There's something about him that I just don't like."

If there's one thing I knew about my dad, it was that his instincts were generally spot on.

My eyes flew across the room to Mike, who was still in conversation with my mother, but seemed to be watching me instead.

For some reason, it gave me the willies.

Chapter Thirteen

The rest of the party went off without a hitch. Jase's costume turned out to be a tuxedo he had worn as a groomsman in his sister's wedding. Adhered to the lapel was a 'My Name Is' sticker with the numbers 007 written in marker underneath. Hey, it worked.

The cake Pia had ordered was as extravagant as the party and by far the largest birthday cake I had ever seen, let alone been the recipient of. My favorite part of the party was when Pia exclaimed it was time for the gifts- something I hadn't anticipated- and I suddenly found myself opening a mound of brightly wrapped packages topped with elaborate bows. At first I had been embarrassed. I hadn't expected anyone to buy me anything, however, it soon became evident that the elaborate wrappings were the only thing sincere about these gifts. Each present was more interesting than the one before. Let me explain.

Maya got me an ice pack. Robert got me a crutch- a left-sided crutch he insisted, while Dane got me the right. Giorgio got me a package of multi-colored markers for people to write inscriptions on my next cast. Jaques even got in on the act, gifting me with a bottle of aspirin.

On the other hand, there were gifts of an entirely different inspiration as well. From Bernard I received a beret and a paint by number kit. From my parents (who were not to be outdone) came a four pack of Play-Doh so that I might increase by sculpting ability.

The pièce de résistance (which, coincidentally, did _not_ come from the Frenchman) was from Olivia, who surprised me with an empty box. When I looked at her in confusion, she simply said, "What do you give to a person who has everything?"

I looked at the box and then back at her, still confused.

"You give them the only thing they don't have."

"Nothing?" I said.

"Precisely."

I was touched. Not only because Olivia had done something so inherently sweet, but also because in her view I had everything. And as I looked around the room at all my friends and family, I realized she wasn't far off.

"Thank you, Olivia." I hugged her.

The gift opening marked the end of the party and people began to gather their things and say their goodnights. My parents and Pia and Bernard had retired to their respective rooms, allowing Jase and I some alone time, which we put to very good use. His passionate kisses curled my toes as always and there was at least a small part of me that wished they would hurry up the remodel so that I might be able to return to my own home soon.

We finally said goodnight and I headed upstairs to change into my pajamas. I had removed my make-up and was just getting ready to start on my hair when an idea hit me. It was no wonder I felt as if I had lived a fairytale existence. I looked like a princess, I had just attended a gala event meant entirely for me. Today at least, it was all about me. And so it was that I padded downstairs and headed down the drive to the guesthouse, clad only in my pajamas, a pair of sneakers, and my elaborate hair-do.

I was so eager, I couldn't wait to get started. I had an idea about a new abstract, something that reflected the gift that Olivia had given me. A painting about nothing. It was going to be hard to pull it off, but already millions of ideas floated around in my head. I wanted another sketch book (the one I had at the main house was already full from so many days of bed rest) and I needed several more canvases. Plus, I still had to attempt to recreate the abstracts that Gloria had ruined.

I was practically skipping by the time I reached the house, not to mention humming to myself like a lunatic, so I almost didn't hear the noise.

Almost.

It was a grating sound, like metal against rock. I waited silently in the darkness near the front door, and sure enough, the sound came to me again.

Curiosity got the best of me and I began to make my way around the back towards the construction zone. Everything might have gone differently if it hadn't been for the fact that it was very dark and I was very clumsy. I was just nearing the site when the toe of my shoe caught on something and I tripped and fell face first onto the ground. Until that point, my ribs had been healing nicely. Now, not so much.

"Damn!" I cursed aloud. "Damn! Damn! Damn! Son of a-"

Pulling myself from the ground, I cradled my ribs and considered returning to the main house. After all, whatever the noise had come from, it had stopped. If someone had been there, my stealth had served to chase them off.

"Hey!" Alex suddenly popped up beside me, nearly scaring me to death.

"Geez, Alex! Don't _do_ that!"

"Shhh!" He admonished. "You heard him right?"

"Heard him who?" I whispered.

"That guy. He was messing around by the construction site."

"Who was messing around?"

"I don't know _who_ it was. If I _knew who_ , I would tell you who!"

"What are you? Dr. Seuss?"

"Ssshhhh!"

I shook my head and began heading for the main house with Alex bobbing along behind me.

"Where are you going? The site's the other way!"

I stopped so quickly Alex rushed through me. For half a second I was colder than I had ever been in my life. Colder than I had ever thought possible. It was a horrible feeling. Like the feeling of death. A brush with death, so to speak. It was awful. "Don't _do_ that!"

"I'm sorry! You're the one who stopped short. Now are you gonna check out the site or not?"

"Not." I started to head forward once more.

"But Mike may be in trouble!"

I whirled on him. "Mike? I thought you didn't know who it was?"

"I didn't know who the other guy was. I knew who Mike was." He was frowning now, clearly agitated with my failure to comprehend. "Mike came out here right after the party was over. I saw him pull back the tarp and he was looking down in the hole. I didn't think anything of it, 'cause, hey, that's what he does for a living right? So I went about my business."

"The business of eluding Cecilia no doubt."

His frown deepened. "Could we have one conversation that does not include her?"

"Go on."

"Anyway, so right about the time you showed up I was coming out to greet you and I heard this noise, so I popped back there instead. And I saw this guy. It was too dark to tell who he was and besides, he was all kind of crouched over or something. Anyway, it looked like he had a shovel. So then I heard you start screaming and the dude took off."

"So if he's gone, why would I need to go back there?"

"'Cause I never saw Mike leave, dummy."

He had a point. Damn!

With a sigh I followed Alex back to the site and found things just as he had explained. There was the hole and the tarp was pulled back. Nearby, all the excavation machinery sat silent, their yellow surfaces gleaming in the moonlight.

But Mike was nowhere to be seen. For that matter, neither was a shovel.

I cautiously moved closer to the hole. The last thing I needed was a fall of that magnitude.

"I don't see anything. Do you see anything?" I was asking Alex even as I peered over the edge.

Then something slammed me in the back with the force of a sledgehammer and I toppled forward, plummeting directly into the pit. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars.

I landed face first with a thud and the excruciating pain in the region of my ribs very nearly sent me spinning into unconsciousness. Somehow I kept my wits about me and slowly began to push myself up with my hands.

Alex was there saying, "Oh, my God! Are you okay?"

"Do I look like I'm okay?" I said, spitting out a wad of my hair that had lodged itself into my mouth.

"Better than him, anyway," he said.

I followed Alex's gaze and looked directly beneath me, where I was lying, on top of another body. Quickly, I scrambled off and crab crawled backward away from it, sputtering, "Who the- what the-"

"I believe you've found Mike."

I stumbled over something which turned out to be Mike's hardhat. The hat was wet and smeared with something that I was certain was blood and I nearly vomited. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God." I was whimpering.

"Pull yourself together!"

I cast a glare at Alex. "You're not the one who fell into a pit on top of somebody who I'm fairly certain is a corpse."

Even in the low light I could see the back of Mike's head had been smashed in. Unless, of course, his head had always been that flat from behind. Which I doubted.

I chucked the hardhat aside and began wiping my hands in the dirt in an attempt to clean them off. That's when I came up with something even more disturbing than before. The object was hard and smooth and curved into a tight semi-circle. It was also riddled with teeth. Even before I made the full connection that I was holding onto a jaw bone, I was screaming like a heroine in my own horror film.

My shrill cries rent the air and from up above I suddenly saw light. For a minute I thought wildly that someone had come to rescue me. Somehow, someone knew I was out here and came out with a flashlight to look for me.

Except only one person knew I was out here.

And the beam of light was far stronger than any a flashlight could cast.

The sound of an engine roaring to life reached my ears. "Is that a car?" I asked Alex stupidly, but he was already rising out of the pit.

He flew back faster than I'd ever seen him move, shouting, "Get down! Get back! Get somewhere! Hide!"

"What?"

And suddenly there was an earthquake. At least that's what it felt like. The ground shook and mounds of dirt began cascading into the hole. I was choking on the stuff it was so thick.

I backed into the corner as far as I could go and still, that wasn't far enough. Another giant shovelful of dirt followed the first, and after a few more, the hole was filling up fast. I was running out of options. Either I got out of the hole and faced whoever was at the top, or I stayed down here and got buried with Mike. Neither sounded like a very good option.

"Isn't there something you can do to help me?" I pleaded with Alex even as I was attempting to scramble up the far side of the hole, ignoring the shrieking pain in my ribs each time I fell back.

"He's coming! Cover yourself in dirt and play dead!"

"What?"

"Damn it! Do what I tell you!"

So I did exactly that, I lay down in the hole, near where Mike had been, scooped some of the dirt over me and played dead. How this was going to work was anyone's guess, but I was praying the whole time.

I was unable to see anything, playing dead as I was, and when the loud 'Thunk!' reached my ears from somewhere beside me, it was everything I could do not to leap up or even jerk.

Apparently my stillness convinced him, because according to Alex the man was moving away from the hole and heading back to the digger.

"Okay, he's gonna send down another shovelful of dirt. I need you to hold still. Cup your hands over your mouth and nose and hold your breath. He ain't gonna leave until he thinks he's buried you."

"Oh, my God," I whimpered again and then did as Alex told me. Sure enough, another pile of dirt cascaded down partially burying me. It was like getting hit with a thousand snow balls at once. Not pleasant. Two more piles hit me before the noise stopped and I was very nearly out of breath when Alex thankfully said, "Okay, he's leaving. You can come out now."

"Reid? I said you can come out now."

"Reid?"

"Reid!"

I broke through the dirt and pulled myself upwards, inhaling a huge gasping breath at the same time. After a few rounds of coughing and choking, I managed to equalize my breathing.

"Did you see who it was?" I asked Alex.

He shook his head. "No, the dude was covered from head to toe. Other than that funny crouched position, there wasn't really anything distinctive about him."

Great. I had just been buried alive by Igor. "Was he dragging one leg behind him?" I couldn't help but to ask.

Alex just cast me a funny look, but said nothing.

I began to survey the sides of the hole, trying to determine where the best possible escape route was. Of course, there wasn't one. Because that would be too easy.

Now what?

The question was answered for me, as Gloria suddenly arrived on the scene.

"What on earth are you doing down here?" Her shrill voice reached me from the top of the hole. "Playing sand box?"

"I'm not _playing_ anything!" I retorted. "If you must know, I got shoved down here, and I'm not alone."

"Well, the whole house is out looking for you. Apparently, your mother couldn't sleep and went to your room to check on you. When she saw you were gone, she got concerned. After checking the whole house by herself, she woke the others. Wait until they see you! What a sight! I mean, talk about from rags to riches. Tonight you went from riches to rags in a heartbeat-"

"Gloria!" I interrupted her. "Are they close enough to hear me if I call?"

She cast a glance over her shoulder. "Someone is. I don't know who though. All I can see is the flashlight. It looks like they're coming down the driveway."

And so it was that I spent the next several minutes calling for help and directing them all to the hole. Four faces were peering down at me registering varying expressions. Pia was in shock. Bernard was concerned. My father seemed resigned. My mother was angry.

"Dear girl, how did you end up down there of all places?" This from Pia.

"Are you all right?" from Bernard.

"These things always seem to happen to you," my father said.

"You seem to have knocked off your hair," my mother said through clenched teeth.

Ah, the jig was up. No doubt it was already up and that was what had sent her to my room in the middle of the night.

I would deal with that later.

"Um, could you guys please get me out of here? And maybe you should call the police too."

"Whatever are you talking about, dear?"

"I'm not alone. Mike's down here too. And he's quite dead."

Chapter Fourteen

At my announcement, everyone scrambled into action and working together like a highly trained SWAT team, they had me out of the hole in no time, wrapped in a blanket and sipping a cup of tea that my mother had made in the guest house. Meanwhile, all of the emergency calls were made.

The first to arrive was Jase's partner Detective Grummons, a man I had long ago labeled Detective Grumpy-buns. Though, of course, never to his face.

"Jase is gonna be pissed," was all he said before heading over to direct the officers that had followed him in.

I watched halfheartedly as they taped the area off with crime scene tape. Before long, the entire construction site was swarming with so many officers it looked like ants pouring out of an ant hill. Grumpy-buns took my statement, only grunting occasionally in response to the various things that I told him.

I told him about the noises I had heard that had led me to the site in the first place. I told him about the hard shove that had knocked me into the hole and where I had landed. I told him about the discovery of the hard hat, wiping the blood off my hands, the jaw bone, the playing dead, the shovel that had been thrown down beside me and then finally finished with my being buried alive. All in all, it was an outrageous story and I might have had trouble believing it myself, if I hadn't lived it.

Without realizing it, he echoed my father's sentiments. "Why do these things always happen to you?"

"I don't know," I said defensively. "Before I came here, I didn't do anything more adventurous than chasing cows that wandered out of the pasture. I'm kind of over this place."

Jase finally arrived on the heels of Grumpy-buns taking my statement and the two of them talked for a long time. I watched through lidded eyes, pretending I didn't care, even though I really did.

My mother came up beside me, offering to refresh my tea. I willingly handed her the cup, wishing she would slip something a little stiffer into it.

"Just so you know, young lady, we still have long discussion in front of us. But in light of the events of the evening, I think it can wait until tomorrow."

"Gee, thanks."

"Don't get smart with me," she admonished.

"Sorry," I mumbled, watching as Grumpy-buns headed over to Pia and Bernard, presumably to take their statements as well.

Jase finally came over to me, and my heart thumped a little. Kind of like a dog's tail when they're happy to see you. Same thing, only I don't have a tail, so my heart took the job.

"Hey," I said.

He frowned at me. "Would you mind telling me what in the hell you were doing gallivanting around a construction site in the middle of the night?"

"I wasn't gallivanting. I was- What? What are you insinuating here, buddy?"

I was slowly beginning to catch on. He didn't honestly believe that I had come out here for some kind of illicit rendezvous with Mike? Right on the heels of our ardent kissing? What kind of girl did he think I was? I was indignant. So indignant that without even thinking about it, I punched him in the arm, following it up with, "Get your mind out of the gutter, buster!"

"Ow!"

"Yeah, well, you deserved it! And there's more where that came from too, if you keep on the track that you're on!"

"What in the hell are you talking about?" He was rubbing his arm where I had hit him. Hey, I used to punch cows, I can hit pretty hard.

"Whatever you're thinking about Mike and me. You're wrong. And you're dirty-minded to even consider it. Hitting below the belt. Stooping lower than a rattlesnake even. It's a lousy thing to accuse me of."

"I'm not accusing you of anything, except your propensity for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. _As usual!_ Aside from that, no one's accusing you of anything. So who's the one with the dirty mind now?"

I glared at him. "Well, what else was I to think? The way you act when Mike's around, how else can I be, but on pins and needles?"

"Yeah, if his eyes got anymore green he'd start producing chlorophyll for photosynthesis," Gloria suddenly joined us.

"I don't need your help!" I said unthinkingly.

"Honey, you need all the help I can give you," Jase said, thinking that I was talking to him. "As far as Mike is concerned, not for a second did I think your being out here had anything to do with him. The way you kiss me, you'd have to be a whole different sort to have another on the side."

I blushed at this, but said nothing.

Jase sat down beside me. "Look, I get that you simply walked into the middle of something that had nothing to do with you. What worries me is that you were out here at all. You're a bit of a jinx you know."

"I know."

"Grummons gave me your statement. Is there anything you can think of that you might have left out? Did you see the guy at all?"

I shook my head. "I wished I had. I'd like to bury him in that hole and see how he likes it. But no. All I saw was a shape and he was kind of bent over." At least I hoped he was, because I hadn't really seen the guy, I was taking what Alex had said on faith. And considering Alex couldn't seem to tell the truth if his life, er, death, depended on it, that was saying a lot.

"Okay, so, when you got here, Mike was already in the hole. About how long was it between the time Mike left the main house and you arrived here?"

"I don't know. Under an hour for sure. I mean, you were there. Everyone left and Pia and Bernard and my parents went to bed. We uh-"

He grinned. "Yeah, I know. Go on."

"Anyway, uh, then I went upstairs, changed clothes, started to take down my hair, and the thought hit me that I needed some of my blank canvases and another sketch book. I slipped on some shoes and headed over. Maybe forty-five minutes in all. Give or take."

"Okay. You told Grummons that you heard a noise when you got to the front door?"

"Yeah, it was grating, like metal on rock."

"Probably he was doing something with the shovel you said he threw down."

I shrugged. "I guess. Anyway, I went to investigate-"

"Because going home and calling the police was out of the question."

"Because I had no way of knowing criminal activity was occurring."

"Fine. You went to investigate, then what?"

"Like I told Grummons. I found the tarp pulled back, went to look in the hole and somebody shoved me in."

"Do you remember anything from when you were down in the hole?"

"First I found Mike. Well, actually, I landed on him. Then I found his hard hat and it was covered in blood. I wiped my hands off in the dirt and that's when I found the jaw bone. Then, the next thing I knew, the hole was being filled with dirt. I couldn't get out, so I covered myself in dirt and played dead. The guy threw something down at me and when I didn't move he must have thought either I was dead or unconscious 'cause he went back to burying me alive."

"Was there anything else that happened down there that you could possibly be missing?"

"Aside from the fact that the back of Mike's head was caved in and his hard hat was covered in blood, not much."

"How did you know it was Mike?"

Since the answer to that question was, 'A ghost told me,' I was struggling to find a response. Finally, I settled for, "I guess I just assumed. I mean, I connect the hole with Mike and I saw his hard hat, so I made the connection."

"Couldn't it have been one of his construction workers?"

"I suppose it could have. I guess you'll find that out when you retrieve the body."

He eyed me a little suspiciously. "I suppose. Are you sure there's something you're not telling me?"

"And now we're back to the illicit affair."

He lurched to his feet. "No, as a matter of fact, we are not. But if that's where you want to take your mind, so be it. But it's not a trip I'll be taking with you." And then he stormed off.

"What was that all about?" Pia came up to me.

I sighed. "I don't know. It's just that Jase is so jealous where Mike is concerned and you certainly haven't helped with that," I glared at her. "I can't help but to wonder if he thinks I was meeting Mike out here for a midnight fling. Which I wasn't. But I can't tell him I know it's Mike because Alex saw him. So what am I supposed to say?"

"All right, Watson. Let's think about this. Use some deductive reasoning. What was Mike wearing at the party tonight?"

"I don't know. Jeans, work shirt, work boots. Nothing special or specific. Any one of his workers would be dressed the same way."

"Was there anything at all distinctive about him?"

"No, not really. Again, they all kind of dress the same way. They all wear steel toed boots and jeans. They all wear hard hats- Oh, my God! Duh! I am so stupid sometimes!" I jumped up and flew over to where Jase stood talking to Grumpy-buns. "It was white! That's how I knew! It was white!"

"What was white?" Grumpy-buns was the first to ask, although it looked like Jase was already catching on.

"The hard hat. It wasn't yellow like the laborers wear. It was white- the supervisor's helmet. Mike was the supervisor. I just connected it without really thinking about it."

Grumpy-buns considered this information. "Well, we'll know for sure as soon as the excavation team gets him out. But it's looking like you're right."

"Yeah well, I may be right about Mike, but my question is, who was the other guy?"

"That's what we're working on," Grumpy-buns assured me. "We'll get to the bottom of it."

I hadn't been talking about the murderer. I had in fact been talking about the person to whom the jawbone belonged. And as my gaze brushed over the site and landed on Alex, I was fairly certain I already knew.

It was the jawbone of an ass.

Chapter Fifteen

"How could you keep that kind of information from me?" my mother was harping.

We were all sitting around the breakfast table the next morning, enjoying a late breakfast. Or at least, we had been, before my mother brought the conversation around to my hair.

"And you," she cast a sharp glance at Pia, "I would have expected more from you! I know Sigreid has the propensity towards keeping me in the dark, but I would have thought you at least would have made sure we were informed."

"Dorothy," Pia began, "it would have done you absolutely no good to have known. You had only just returned home and it didn't seem to make any sense in having you turn right around and come back, especially considering that Reid was fine."

"They cut my child out of a car. They had to remove her hair to extricate her. You call that fine?"

"Now, that's not what I meant at all. I understand how frightful the accident was. I was there and I was terrified out of my wits. I've never been so worried in my life. But I couldn't help but to think, if I was that worried, and Reid is not even my child, what would it do to you? And aside from her hair, she came out of it in one piece. So, it seemed arbitrary to present you with such news. And a bit cruel."

"I think I should have been the one to make that decision-" my mother began, but my father interrupted her, "Judy, the girl is fine. Let's not make a mountain out of a molehill. She survived, though her hair did not."

And my hair, very conveniently, was now buried along with Mike and the jawbone. Which I still needed to talk to Pia about. As soon as I could get five minutes alone with her.

"I don't believe I'm making a mountain out of a molehill. You all are trying to make a molehill out of a mountain, and I simply won't have it! Sigreid has made a habit out of pulling the wool over my eyes and I'm simply trying to shear the sheep in wolf's clothing."

"What?!" we all said in unison.

My mother, the queen of word stew, thought about what she had said and amended, "Shear the wolf in sheep's clothing. I don't know. Something like that. You know what I mean! Don't make me say words!" She always got frustrated when she couldn't verbalize what she was thinking. Which was most of the time.

"I promise not to try and hide anything from you anymore," I vowed. With my fingers crossed behind my back. No easy feat since I was sorer today than I'd been in a long time and my ribs protested at the movement.

"I only wished I could believe you," she grouched, but I could tell she was letting go of the subject. "It does seem such a shame about what happened to that Mike fellow though. I talked to him for quite some time at the party last night. He was such a nice man and with such a bright future. His grandfather left him the business, you know. He could have been quite wealthy given enough time."

Considering I suspected my mother had had matchmaking in her head at the time, I said nothing.

"I wonder who that bone belongs to though?" she continued. Once my mother got on a train, she wasn't one to disembark. "I mean, it's obvious it's old. I wonder if your home was built on some ancient Indian burial ground or something? You know that sort of thing happens more often than you think. Look at us. When we bought that additional land to expand the farm, we found an old cemetery plot. Remember, dear?" she addressed my father.

"Yes," was his response. Unlike my mother, he wasn't wordy.

"Maybe it's the bone of some long ago tribal chief. Wouldn't that be exciting?" she imagined.

Gloria chose that moment to pop into the room. "Oh, I highly doubt that. Unless she means Chief Spitting Bull."

I choked on my coffee at that and everyone stared at me while I sputtered.

"Darling, don't gulp. That prevents that sort of thing from happening," Pia admonished.

"Sorry. I swallowed wrong."

My mother just looked at me curiously and then hopped back on her train. "As I was saying, wouldn't it be exciting if it turned out to be some archeological site?"

"Since I'm the one who _found_ the jawbone, I can't really qualify it as exciting," I told her. "More like terrifying. And since I'm pretty sure I saw a filling in one of those teeth, I highly doubt that it will turn out to belong to an Indian chief."

She pouted. "Well, that's disappointing."

"Again, Mom. I fell in a pit with not _one_ , but _two_ dead bodies. Disappointing is an understatement."

"Yes, dear, I get it. You were frightened no doubt. But if something good could have come out of the tragedy, then all for the better, right? You do sometimes have to look for the light at the end of the tunnel."

"Oh, I saw it all right. The problem was it was coming from the train that was rampaging down the track straight toward me. I felt like Miss Nell after Snidely Whiplash tied her to the tracks."

Pia laughed. "Oh, I did so love that cartoon. Dudley Do-Right wasn't it? What was the name of his horse again?"

Way to miss the point.

"I don't know. I don't believe I ever saw it." My mother was now invested in this new topic.

"Horse," I supplied, completely giving up on ever bringing the subject back around to my misfortune.

"Yes, darling, that's what I asked. What was the name of the horse?"

Bernard snickered, but in no way tried to assist me.

"Who's on first, I don't know, third base!" Gloria chanted.

"You're not heeellllping," I sing-songed.

"I wasn't tryyyying toooo," Gloria sang back.

"How am I supposed to help you?" Pia was confused. "I was asking for your help. Oh, I am so confused."

"Horse! The blasted horse was named Horse!" I finally lost my temper.

"Well, that's not very original, is it? And there's no need to get testy."

"I'm going to go take a shower. And possibly drown myself." I stalked out of the room, leaving them all behind to remark on my moodiness.

If I had hoped Gloria was going to stay behind with them, I was in for a rude awakening.

"You do realize those bones probably belong to Alex," she was saying as she followed me up to my room.

"Bone, not bones. I found one bone. A jawbone to be precise."

"How appropriate. The jawbone of an ass."

"The thought had already occurred to me."

"Don't you think it's time you started asking Alex some questions?"

I whirled on her. "Don't you think I have? But every time I bring up the subject, he either evades it or disappears. How am I supposed to get any answers that way?"

Gloria considered this for a moment. "Then, why not try a different angle? Go to a different source, I mean."

"Who?"

"Cecilia. Ask her."

I looked at her completely astounded. "Firstly, every interaction I've ever had with that banshee has ended as calamity for me, with the destruction of my property, I might add."

"She's jealous."

"What does she have to be jealous about?"

"You're moving in on her man."

"What?!"

"Alex, from what I understand. She and Alex were an item when they were alive."

I sunk down onto my bed. Well, that explained a lot of things. "She and Alex were together? And now that I'm living in the guest house and Alex is hanging around all the time, she thinks I want her ghost of a boyfriend? Well, that makes no sense."

"Look at Jase. He was jealous of Mike, right? And that made no sense either. I mean, anyone with eyes can see Jase has got it all over Mike." She thought about this for a minute and then added, "More so now that he's the one still living."

"But Alex? A ghost? How does a person have a fling with a ghost?"

"It's too perverted for words," Gloria rolled her eyes. "Anyway, that's beside the point. From what I can tell, Cecilia was worried you were moving in on her man and she got a little-"

"Vengeful?"

"Precisely. But if you were to make certain that she _knows_ where your interests lie and that they in no way lie with Alex, then maybe she'll give you the information you want."

"But how am I supposed to do that now? I mean, Olivia banished her, or whatever the cleansing does."

Gloria laughed. "You don't honestly think that buffoon succeeded with that prattle, do you? You just haven't seen Cecilia because there's been no reason for her to drop by. Alex has been making himself scarce, mostly staying at the guest house when he's anywhere at all, and so she didn't feel the need to scare you off. But if Alex were to hang out long enough, I have no doubt Cecilia will show up."

"Then the problem becomes, can I keep her here long enough to convince her and at the same time prevent her from destroying any more property, or doing me serious harm?"

"That's something you'll have to work out for yourself. I can only do so much you know."

I flashed her a dirty look.

"When you want Alex here, say the word. I'll make sure he comes."

"How?"

"You really are a stupid girl, aren't you?"

"With friends like this, who needs enemies?"

"I never said I was your friend. I'm Pia's friend. But you amuse me, so I help where I can. The point is, Cecilia's jealousy does have a foundation. Alex harbors quite the crush on you."

"Oh! That's disgusting."

"Whatever. It works to your advantage. All I have to do is tell Alex you want to do another painting of him. He'll be here faster than you can say, 'Who's a stupid girl? I am.'"

"Gee, thanks."

"Again, not your enemy, but also not your friend." And with that, she disappeared. Hopefully to go give someone else some ulcers.

I had just finished in the shower when Pia arbitrarily knocked on my door then let herself in.

"Why do you bother knocking, if you're not going to wait for an answer?"

"It's convention, dear. I am nothing, if not polite."

"Of course. What's up?"

Pia began making my bed, a task I had yet to do this morning. "I wanted to talk to you about last night. It seems we have another mystery on our hands and I wanted to see how you thought we should proceed."

"I think we should let the police take care of it."

"Don't be silly. They'll muck it all up, as usual." She sat on the now made bed. "Besides, the crime occurred on my property and it's going to slow the process of my remodel. I think I'm rather heavily invested."

"No more so than I. I mean, someone tried to kill me last night."

"All the more reason I'd think you'd want to investigate. The MNT- wait, that really doesn't work here, does it?"

Pia was referring to the last time someone had tried to kill me- yes, this has happened before- and I had coined the murdered the 'Mysterious Number Three,' or MNT for short. In this case, the murderer was not an unknown third person at the crime scene and so the title didn't fit.

"How about, 'Construction Site Intruder?' That has a nice ring to it."

"There's already a television show with that name."

"There is? I don't think I've ever heard of it. Odd name for a television show."

"CSI?"

She laughed. "Oh! I didn't think it through. All right. How about-"

"How about we just let this go and let the police take care of it," I said again.

She frowned. "Darling, you really are going to make a wonderful Watson when you stop being so stubborn. Need I explain to you how vital it is to get this case wrapped up as soon as possible? The sooner we catch the criminal, the sooner the remodel continues, the sooner you move out of here and back into your own home."

Leave it to Pia to find my weak spot.

Dropping onto the bed beside her I said, "Okay, where do we start?"

"Finally. Down to business. Okay, the Case of the Midnight Murderer- you like it?"

"Sure, whatever."

"Well, darling, it needs a name. So, we can just call the man MM, since he's the midnight murderer. Any objections?"

I wanted to scream, 'MOVE ON!!' Of course, I didn't.

"Sure, okay, he's the MM. Now what?"

"Well, I suppose there are several questions we have to answer. First, who is the MM and what was his purpose for killing Mike? We need to discover the motive. If we discover that, we will no doubt reveal the murderer. Secondly, who does the second skeleton belong to? Assuming there is one and there's more than just a jawbone."

"I'm already working on that."

She clapped her hands. "You really are a superb Watson. Okay, fill me in."

I quickly told her about my suspicions, and Gloria's as well, and the plan Gloria and I had concocted for getting to the bottom of it.

"That's all well and good, but if we're going to try this we first have to wait for your parents to return home. There's a good chance all hell is going to break loose with Cecelia involved and we can't afford to take that chance with your parents hanging about." She frowned. "I hate delays."

"I don't see any other way."

"Unfortunately, neither do I. Okay, so Monday- your parents are leaving tomorrow, aren't they?" I nodded. "All right, Monday evening we'll get Olivia over here-"

"Olivia?"

"We're going to need some kind of protection."

I had my doubts that Olivia could provide any, but I said nothing.

"And then we go ahead with the plan. Meanwhile, I'm going to see what I can find out about Mike himself, ask a few questions of my original contractor. After all, he's the one that recommended Mike. Also, I think I need to get all the old survey maps of this place and I think he has them."

"Good idea. I'm beginning to wonder if Alex was telling the truth about the pool. Maybe there really was one here and it's since been filled in. And he's at the bottom of it."

"So then the question becomes, if that really is Alex's remains, what, if anything, does this have to do with Mike's murder?"

"Hopefully that's something Cecilia can answer."

Chapter Sixteen

My parents left on Sunday night, my mother insisting that if anything else was to occur I should call her right away. My father, more comfortable with the fact that I could indeed take care of myself, left no remonstrations, only hugged me and headed out to the car.

The last words out of my mother's mouth before they drove away were, "Now, don't you forget Sigreid! You call me if _anything_ , and I do mean _anything_ , happens. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, Mom. I hear and obey."

"Well, if that isn't just the camel that broke the straw's back-" but my father had already applied his foot to the gas pedal. I was going to have to send that man a gift.

On Monday we returned to the gallery, but all thoughts of any plans we may have that evening regarding Cecilia, were quickly wiped away by Giorgio's panic upon greeting us.

"Honestly," Pia said. "One of these days I'd love to come in here without facing some kind of crisis. What's going on now?"

"We have to talk," he said. "In your office." He eyed me suspiciously.

"Contrary to whatever you may have heard," Pia said noting his look, "although Reid may have stumbled upon another dead body, she was in no way responsible for what happened."

"What?"

"The night of her party. Mike Holbeck was murdered. I assumed you'd heard?"

"Mike?!" Simone shrieked from across the gallery. "What do you mean he was murdered? We had a date planned for tonight!"

"Gee, Simone. It looks like all your boyfriends are dropping like flies." I couldn't resist.

"That's not funny!"

Pia cast me a reproachful look. "No, it is not. Simone, dear, I'm sorry. I thought you knew. I thought by now everyone knew. It seems someone trespassed onto the construction site late that night and did him in. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you."

Not that Simone looked particularly hurt. If anything, she looked annoyed. Evidently she hadn't known him long enough to be overly concerned. Of course, she was going to have to find some new plans for tonight...

Pia looked back to Giorgio. "Well, if it wasn't that, what was it then?"

"In your office, please," he said, heading in that direction.

Pia followed him leaving Simone and I standing in the showroom by ourselves. She stared at me for a minute, then turned on her heel and stalked away. Presumably to her office.

I was busy updating my appointments on the computer in my own office when Pia joined me. She looked pale.

"What is it?" I asked standing up from my desk and coming around to meet her.

She sunk into a chair. "Someone has been robbing me."

"Yeee-aaahhh. We already knew that, remember? His name begins with a Professor and ends with a Stanley. Murderer extraordinaire? You know- the guy that was counterfeiting your artwork?"

"No," she shook her head. "It's not just him. Giorgio says it's still going on. That's why he didn't want to talk about it in front of you."

"He thinks I did it?!" I was outraged. How many times could I shout my innocence from the rooftops before people started listening to me?

"No, not you necessarily. Someone. He just didn't want them to know he was on to them. Whoever they are. From the looks of things, it has to be someone that's been here at least a few months."

"How does he know that?"

"He conducted his first inventory as soon as he took over the position. At that time, he discovered many more pieces of art were missing than we had at first presumed."

I nodded. "Yeah, we knew that. But I thought we attributed it to the professor?"

"We did. Or at least, I did. But Giorgio didn't believe it. He thought that the professor might be a convenient fall guy for whoever the real thief was."

"And he based his assumptions on?"

"The fact that none of the artwork has been found. See, while I do have photographical records of every piece of art in the warehouse, since so much moves in and out and some of it stays there for a great deal of time, often the photographs get misplaced. So Giorgio has been having a hard time finding out precisely which pieces are missing. He only has empty crates to go by. And all those filing cabinets in Maya's office? They're filled with thousands of photos. Needless to say, it could take him a lifetime to compare what has sold with what should be left and cross-reference that with the photographs."

"Not terribly functional."

"Exactly. So, figuring the gallery would just have to take the loss, Giorgio had planned to start from square one. From where we are now. So he decided to start developing his own system. And he's proven it works quite nicely. He has rearranged the warehouse and begun new catalogs, taking his own pictures, dating them and marking them with the location of each and every item in the warehouse. Further, when he brings something forward, onto the showroom floor, he removes the picture and adds it to a new catalog. He calls this his 'active' file. Then, when an item sells, he puts the picture into a sold book. This way he can track the movement of everything in the gallery. Quite clever, really."

"Sounds like his is the best promotion you've ever made. Sounds like he might also need a raise." Hey, anyone who goes to that kind of trouble not for their own personal gain, but for the betterment of their workplace- they deserve a raise in my book. Just saying.

"You may be right," Pia agreed. "The problem is, because Giorgio is so attuned to every piece in the gallery now, he notices the instant one goes missing. He said a week ago two pieces disappeared out of the warehouse, but he assumed that since he had just undertaken such a monumental task that he might be mistaken and decided not to panic. Then another piece went missing a day or two after that. And then, just last week, as late as Friday, he said that two more pieces were gone and he was convinced that someone was actively stealing them."

"Again, how does that prove that it's someone who's been here a long time? I mean, all these thefts have occurred in the last few weeks, it could just as well be one of the new hires."

Although I could live with the idea that it was Simone, I found it very hard to believe Maya had anything to do with it, and if Giorgio was the thief he would hardly bring it to Pia's attention. In my mind that left either Pia's new assistant Zoe, or the new salesperson, Francesca Preziosi, a woman I'd only met in passing. And then again there was the maid and the two warehouse workers, Gary Carter, a long time employee, and the new guy, Jake something.

Okay, so the suspect list was growing astronomically by the second.

"It really doesn't, I suppose. It's just Giorgio's suspicion that not all the thefts can be blamed on the professor."

"There's only one way to verify anything. The security footage. Why not review the footage for the last few weeks at least and see what it shows? If someone is stealing from the warehouse, you should be able to find them on the footage."

"I'm in the process of doing that right now. I've already called the security company and they're going through it themselves. They'll also send me a copy so I can review it. But this could take days!"

"I may have something faster." With that, I headed to the warehouse, Pia hot on my heels.

Upon entering the warehouse I immediately noticed it was empty. "Where are the guys?"

"On deliveries, I would assume," Pia said.

"All right. Keep everyone out of here for now, will you?"

Pia stood guard at the door- literally. She was honestly doing her best impression of the Queen's Royal Guard.

"Could you make it more obvious?"

"What, dear?"

"Be more relaxed, will you? Try to look natural. I don't know- act like you're reviewing the shipping list or something."

"Got it!" She snatched up the nearest clipboard and began flipping through pages, all the while keeping one eye on the door.

I moved into the staging room, a room used to photograph new pieces of artwork for security purposes- fat lot of good that had done. It was also the room Raphael, the gallery's ghost, liked to hang out in.

"Raphael!" I called up to the ceiling. "Raphael? Are you here?"

Sure enough, the Jamaican ghost in the bright orange tropical shirt came floating down through the ceiling. "Reid!" He greeted. "Me hasn't been seein' you in a long time now!"

"Yeah, I kinda had an accident, so I've been away for awhile."

"An acc-ee-dent? Wot kind o' acc-ee-dent?"

"Nothing major. Think car, me, building, squish. Anyway, I'm fine. But I needed to ask you something."

"Ask away. Me answer wot I cahn."

"Have you seen anyone acting suspiciously in the warehouse? I mean, have you seen anyone, say, rifling through the artwork or anything? Or take anything that they looked like they might be trying to hide?"

"No, I cahn't say as me have. But you know me. Dis duppy don' pay no mind ta de livin'. Me's only interested in findin' me art." Raphael had spent his entire existence as a duppy-er, ghost- trying to find one of his old paintings he had done when he was alive. So far he'd had no success in the endeavor.

"All right. Well, if you do see something, will you let me know?"

"Sure t'ing, gal. But, did ya ask ta other duppy?"

"The other duppy?"

"Ya. Ricky. He got himself ta stickin' now, ya know."

"No, I didn't know. Where can I find him?"

"He usually wanders 'round da warehouse, but I t'ink he went off walkin' agin. He does dat sometimes. He gets ta bein' bored ya know."

Great. Just what I needed. Chasing down yet another ghost.

"Well, if you see him, will you tell him I need to talk to him?"

"Sure t'ing gal." With that, he floated back into the ceiling.

Pia rushed up to me as soon as I exited the staging room. "Well?"

"Raphael hasn't seen anything. But he said to ask Ricky. The only problem is, Ricky's not around to ask right now."

"J.D.'s a ghost too?" Pia always called Ricky J.D., short for James Dean since she was convinced Ricky resembled the actor. And truth be told, he kinda did. Had. Whatever.

"Yeah. But I have to wait for him to return before I can ask him."

She sighed. "I hate delays."

"So you keep saying."

Pia spent the rest of the day sequestered in her office, perusing the security footage I assumed, while I passed the time in my office, running to the warehouse every half hour or so hoping to find Ricky. If Giorgio had seen me, I'm pretty sure he would have been convinced that my suspicious behavior marked me not only as the thief, but also a crazy person. Thankfully, he spent the entire day on the showroom floor, too busy working with customers to do anything else.

By the end of the day, Pia was cross-eyed from staring at hours of security footage and not surprisingly finding nothing, and my feet hurt from too many trips to the warehouse in heels. We drove home in silence, each lost in our own, though probably similar, thoughts.

Bernard had left on yet another of his many business trips, so Pia and I had the whole house to ourselves, which was convenient given what we were planning to do.

Olivia arrived just after six, as was the arrangement. She spent an hour or so lighting candles and lining the floor of the room we were using with salt. Before this though, I had to move in an easel and some of my painting supplies (enough to make it look plausible anyway). Olivia felt the fewer people 'breaking the line of salt,' the better. Apparently, this would make the circle stronger. I wasn't sure how much of this I believed, but since Pia seemed to be along for the ride, I had no choice but to follow.

Olivia also made Gloria remain inside the circle until all the preparations were made, at which time, she allowed Gloria to leave in order to retrieve Alex.

According to Olivia, the circle was such that anyone entering could not leave until given permission by the creator- a.k.a. Olivia. I couldn't help but to wonder, if she was right, how safe would this be for her? I mean, if Cecilia really wanted to leave, how hard would it be for her to extricate the permission required from Olivia?

Before I had time to put much thought into the theory, Gloria had returned, with Alex.

"You want to do another portrait of me?" Alex crowed his chest puffed up with pride.

"Yes," I told him, carefully sticking with the story we had concocted earlier. "I thought it would be make more sense to actually paint the 'Ghost of the Manor,' _in_ the manor."

"Of course! That's fine!" he enthused. Then, casting me a suspicious glance, "But, you're not going to paint me as menacing as you did the last time, are you?"

"I hadn't planned on it."

"Okay. Go for rakish."

"Rakish it is."

If Alex was the least bit suspicious about my being so agreeable, he didn't say anything, he just quickly posed himself where I pointed and watched as I began to sketch. "What's Olivia doing here?"

I shrugged. "She was over for a visit and since she already knows about me, I figured, why put off the project? I've got nothing to hide from her."

"Good point."

I noticed Jean-Luc rapidly translating everything Alex was saying to Olivia and was relieved that Alex hadn't referred to her as 'the fat lady,' as he so often did.

I had been sketching only about fifteen minutes- long enough to force me to start breaking out paints in order to keep up the ruse- when Cecilia finally appeared. Just outside the circle, I couldn't help but notice.

Damn!

I had to do something to get her inside the circle. But from her position she could take in everything that was going on, including my sketch.

Snatching up the canvas, I moved over to Alex pretending to show it to him. "What do you think? Rakish enough? I'm not sure that I'm doing your rugged good-looks justice." Gag.

Alex seemed surprised by my statement, but also proud, and thankfully, conceit won out. It usually did where Alex was concerned.

"My jaw, don't you think it needs to be squared more? And my shoulders, I think they're a little wider, aren't they?"

Yeah right. And you should have a big red 'S' painted right in the middle of your chest. I'll get right on that.

"Yes, I think you're right." I drew a few extra lines here and there. "Like this and this? Don't you think?"

"Yes! That's much better! You know me so well!"

That's all it took. In a fury, Cecilia flew into the circle and straight at Alex and myself with a force of wind so strong it knocked the canvas clean out of my hands.

"AAAHHHHHHH!" she screamed.

A banshee's cry if I ever heard one.

"Oh, my word! What was that?" For once, Olivia was not hearing buzzing.

Pia ducked in reaction to the strong wind that was whirling in a circular motion all around the room, picking up smaller objects (mostly Olivia's candles) and flinging them around. The furniture rattled, the doors on the cabinet opened and slammed shut repeatedly, my easel joined the fray and began flying around the room, as did my art supplies, and the lights dimmed and brightened to the point I felt like I was standing under a strobe light.

Olivia quickly hunched her massive bulk behind the sofa and Jean-Luc joined her, with all but one elbow hidden. That stuck out the side of the sofa making it look as if the furniture were sprouting arms. Pia dove for safety behind the arm chair upon which Alex perched, looking for all the world like he would like nothing better than to disappear. As a matter of fact, he was either trying to disappear, or he was trying to do something that was better done on a toilet. Since he was a ghost, I assumed he was doing the first.

Maybe the salt circle wasn't so stupid after all.

Meanwhile, I stood upright in the middle of the melee. Fool that I am.

"If you are quite through!" I shouted at Cecilia.

Everything suddenly stopped on a dime, so quickly, so violently, that it was almost as if time stood still for that single moment. And then she rushed me. Or rather, rushed through me.

The same freezing assault that I had experienced when Alex accidentally walked through me at the construction site revisited me, no more pleasant than it had been the first time. If anything, it was colder.

I turned to face Cecilia who was now on the other side of the room, holding a similar stance to that of a bull preparing to charge the matador. "Feel better now?"

She rushed me again, leaving me shivering once more. Since I had no time to recuperate from the first attack, I was beginning to feel as if I were frostbitten. On the inside.

"Well?" I challenged her again. _What was wrong with me?_

"Bitch!" She screamed at me. "You money-grubbing, man-stealing, calculating whore!"

"What's going on?" Pia called over to Olivia.

"I'm not sure. But she's calling her a whole lot of awful names!"

"Are you done yet?" I asked Cecilia.

"What have you done to me!" Alex began yelling himself. Even now, he was flying about the room and bouncing off of invisible walls. Apparently, having realized he couldn't 'poof' himself out, he was attempting to leave the old-fashioned way. Or old-fashioned for a ghost anyway. Instead, he was bouncing off the boundaries Olivia had created.

I ignored him. "Cecilia, if you would give me just five minutes to explain-"

"I'll give you nothing! Except a lifetime of horror! I can haunt you in ways you never thought of!" She rushed me again. "I can make your life a living hell! I can make you wish you were never born!" She rushed me two more times, using each maneuver to punctuate her threats.

Finally, I could take no more and fell to the floor in little more than a huddled mass. Still I was not willing to give up. "Let me know when you're through and we can talk."

"There's nothing to talk about!" she shrieked at me. "I want you dead!"

I raised my head and then slowly pulled myself to my feet. "Well, then, get in line honey! 'Cause you're not the first, and with my luck, you won't be the last! I've already been bashed on the head, poisoned, hit by a car, knocked in a hole and then buried alive in that same hole! A lot of people before you have tried and none of them have succeeded, so what does that say for your odds?"

"None of them had the powers I have."

"What have you got? A few scary parlor tricks? So you can blow a big wind! Whoopty-do! So you can destroy my property, splash paint on my artwork, make me cold with your ethereal presence. Oooooohhhhhh, I'm friggin' scared."

"Reid, darling, I don't think you should taunt a ghost."

"Especially a poltergeist hell bent on revenge," Olivia added.

"No, you've got a point, Reid." Gloria had returned, although I noticed she was careful to stay outside the circle. "What can you do, Cecilia? I mean, I for one have been a ghost for a long time and I don't have any secret powers. And Alex, he's been a ghost as long as you have and from what I can see right now, he doesn't even have the ability to leave the room. So what makes you so special that you can do what others can't?"

Cecilia glared at her. "My grandmother was a voodoo priestess."

"Which might frighten me, _if_ she was here." Gloria looked around pointedly. "But I don't see her. Come out, come out, wherever you are! Grandma? Grandma? Ollie, ollie, oxen free. Nope. No sign of Grandma. My guess is she's resting quite comfortably in her grave somewhere. Unless she was practicing bad voodoo, in which case..." Gloria looked down at the floor.

Cecilia flew at Gloria then, but just like Alex, she bounced off an invisible wall. Turning to me she said, "What have you done?"

"The doctor advised me to cut back on my sodium level. He didn't say anything about yours." I waved the now empty container of salt at her tauntingly.

"Do you honestly think that can hold me?" she sneered.

"You tell me. It seems to be working well enough."

"Maybe now, but not for long."

"With any luck, long enough to talk some sense into you. Don't you get it? I don't want your man! I have my own! And honestly, what did you think I could do with a ghost? A lying ghost at that!"

Cecilia glared at Alex. "That's not what he said."

A flashed him a glare of my own. "Regardless of whatever he may have said- what _did_ you say, Alex?!"

"Nothing. I said nothing!"

"What he said was, I may be stuck with him for the rest of my unnatural existence, but he didn't have to be stuck with me. He had found my replacement."

"Your replace- Alex!"

He put his hands in the air in surrender. "That's not exactly what I said. What I said was, you _could_ be replaced. _Could_ be. Operative word there."

"Same difference."

"NO, it's not," I objected. "I am NO one's replacement. Let alone a ghost's!"

"If you didn't act like such a harridan all the time! Honestly, Cecilia, you were much more fun when you were alive. It's like The Taming of the Shrew without the kissing part."

"When I was alive I had LSD to make you more palatable. What have I got now?"

He floated up to her. "You've got me, Cece. Me. Isn't that enough?"

If at first his gentle tone seemed to placate her, the final words did quite the opposite. Cecilia flew into a rage once more, the winds flying along with her. "DON'T YOU CECE, ME!" she shrieked.

This time I was smart enough to duck for cover along with Olivia and Pia.

"How DARE you say that to me! Isn't that enough?! YOU! Of all people, you say that! I certainly wasn't enough was I? And who's fault is it that I'm dead?" She was pushing him in her rage now, and not unlike the last time she did this, it was like solid form hitting solid form. Alex was being slammed back with each push, until he finally was backed into the invisible wall.

" _I_ wasn't enough for you! And because of that, _I'm_ dead. _I'm_ a ghost! And there's no one to blame but you! You're the cause of both of our downfalls! And for that, I'll never forgive you! And I will _always_ make your existence a miserable hell! Just as you've done mine!"

"What in the hell is going on in here?" my mother's voice suddenly rent through the air. Before I could even begin to make sense of what she was doing here, whatever hell that was left that hadn't broken loose, proceeded to do so.

My mother inadvertently broke the line of salt with her foot as she entered the room. Simultaneously Alex fell backwards through the invisible wall. Cecilia, who had been in the midst of another violent shove went with him. As soon as Alex realized what had happened, he disappeared leaving Cecilia staring at nothing. She flew up into the air, let out another of her glass-shattering screams and spun herself into a circle disappearing far more dramatically than Alex had done.

"Well, that didn't work worth a hoot, did it?" Gloria commented to no one in particular.

"Judy, dear, whatever are you doing here?" Pia asked from her crouched position behind the chair.

Olivia, having already been given the 'all clear' sign by Jean-Luc hoisted herself up from behind the sofa. "So nice to see you, Judy."

While I remained sitting on the floor in the middle of the room wondering how on earth I was going to explain all of this to my mother.

Chapter Seventeen

Pia somehow managed to convince my mother to change the venue and led us all to the kitchen where she made us some tea and put together a plate of cookies. Olivia dove into the cookies with gusto, while I and my mother passed. After all that I'd just been through, not to mention how cold I was, all I really wanted was the tea.

Once she had satisfied her need to play hostess, Pia joined us at the table. "Well, Judy, I really don't know where to begin."

My mother narrowed her eyes. "Why not start with the disaster that seems to have taken place in your living room? Or the fact that both you and Olivia were cowering behind the furniture when I arrived? Or the fact that my daughter seemed to be talking to invisible people? I don't know. Pick anyplace you like. Just start talking."

"I'm not certain how much you saw..." Pia began.

"Enough. More than."

"All right." Pia seemed to be stalling. It was very rare to find a situation in which Pia could not handle herself. I had stumbled upon one now.

"Mom-" I started, but she interrupted me, "Not now. I'll get to you soon enough. Right now I'm talking to Pia."

I clammed up. I knew when my mother's tone brooked no argument. And right now, there was no brooking. There was no brook, no stream, no creek, not so much as a rivulet.

"All right."

"You already said that."

Yeah, Mom was pissed.

Pia sighed. "You have every right to be angry, Judy-"

"Mrs. Larson. My friends call me Judy. I'm not so sure you fall into that category anymore. And right now I'd like to know what you have gotten my daughter into."

Pia sighed again. "It's very hard to explain. You see, as you've been told, my home is inhabited by three ghosts."

"Yes. I've heard that nonsense before."

"It's not nonsense," Olivia spoke up for the first time. Brushing cookie crumbs off of her massive bosom she continued, "It's quite true, you know. They've been here for some time. But until now they've posed no danger, so I never removed them."

My mother rolled her eyes. "If you are going to persist in telling me fairy tales, then I can't possibly see how this relationship can continue. Sigreid, pack your things. We're going home."

"We are not going anywhere Mom. I am home. You may leave whenever you wish, but I am _not_ a child who can be ordered about. _This_ is my home now and I'm staying here. My job is here, my friends are here, my boyfriend is here." I had never argued with my mother before, and my heart was pounding with the effort it took to do so now. But I stuck to my guns. I only hoped she didn't notice my hands shaking.

"Sigreid Larson-!" my mother began, but this time it was Pia who interrupted. "Gloria, if you were _ever_ going to be helpful, _ever_ , at all, _now_ is the time!"

"Fine. Turn me into a circus act!" Gloria sniped, but she flew down from her position bobbing near the ceiling where she liked to hang out and picked up the tea pot and began carting it around the room. "Is this good enough?"

Judging by the look on my mother's face, it might have been.

But Gloria, determined to one-up herself then proceeded to open and close cabinet doors one at a time, turn on the faucet and pour the contents of the teapot onto the floor.

"Okay! You can stop now!" Pia hollered looking at the mess she was making.

Finally, as if it was the flourish to her act, Gloria moved over to my mother and blew in her face hard enough to ruffle her hair. I knew how cold that wind was. I had experienced it myself. So did it come as any surprise to me when my mother fainted and toppled out of the chair?

No, it did not.

Between us all (with the exception of Gloria who had disappeared as soon as she had seen what she had done), we managed to move my mother into the sitting room and laid her on the fainting couch- appropriate, I know. When she finally came to, she seemed a bit startled to be in a different room.

"Is it- I mean- the ghost- is it still here?"

"No," I comforted her. "She went away. She's harmless really. I promise."

"Harmless my foot!" my mother exclaimed as she moved to a sitting position. "Ghosts are not harmless! And since when can you see and talk to them?" Then turning an accusing glare on Olivia she said, "And why haven't you gotten rid of them?"

"One simply doesn't go about banishing a person just because they happen to be a ghost. That's a bit extreme, don't you think? Shouldn't we try practicing tolerance?" Olivia defended herself.

"We're not talking racism and segregation here. We're not talking religious separatism. We are talking about spiritual manifestations that could do us a significant amount of harm!"

"Mom, honestly, most of the ghosts I have met really are harmless." I couldn't believe I was having this conversation with my mother.

"Exactly how many ghosts have you met?" she narrowed her eyes at me.

"Oh, I don't know. Three or four." I was not about to tell her the truth about how many ghosts there really were wandering around the Hamptons. And I only knew a fraction of them.

"There are three in this house," my mother said. "Who's the other one?"

"There's a nurse at the hospital," I replied.

At the same time Pia offered, "Well, there's Raphael at the gallery. Oh, and now J.D. too."

And Olivia, not to be outdone, supplied, "My husband, Jean-Luc."

"Okay, maybe seven," I amended.

"That's a darn sight more than three or four."

"I miscounted," I said lamely.

"The point is, Mrs. Larson," Pia began.

"Judy," my mother said. "I'm sorry. I was so angry because I thought you all were lying to me. Although, now I can certainly see why. Who in their right mind would believe this?" She lay back on the fainting couch again and began mumbling to herself. "In fact, maybe I'm not here at all. Maybe I'm at home in bed and this is all a bad dream brought on by the stress of my worrying about Sigreid. Or, maybe I really have gone nuts and I'm in a hospital somewhere, in a straight-jacket and being shot up with who knows what kind of anti-psychotic medications. Maybe I've gone round the bend. I'm crazy as a bedbug, loony as a toon, batty as, I don't know- whatever's batty."

"Fruity as a nutcake," I added in Mom-speak.

"You're not helping," she glared at me.

"I thought you were running out of similes."

Pia frowned at me. Everyone was making a habit of doing that these days.

"No, Judy. You're not insane. You're quite sound. It's just very difficult to accept, dear. I understand that. And so does Reid. We all had a difficult time accepting it when it happened. I mean, believing there are ghosts hanging about is one thing, but actually seeing them and communicating with them, well that's entirely something else."

"And yet again I ask- when did this, this thing, start?"

"Remember when I got hit on the head with that sculpture not too long ago?" She nodded. "Well, apparently marble packs quite a wallop."

My mother considered this information for a minute. "Then maybe, if a blow to the head is how it all got started, then another might put an end to it?" my mother offered.

As if by my no longer having the capability to see ghosts, they would no longer be there. Nice assessment, Mom. Of course I didn't say that.

Instead I said, "Good idea, Mom. Pia, break out the marble statues. Let's turn me into a piñata! Who wants to take the first whack?"

"Don't tempt me, dear," Pia scolded. "Judy, the girl's had more knocks to the brain lately than any normal human being could logically withstand. Which might account for how addled she's acting right now. That being said, her ability has never ceased. She simply sees and speaks to ghosts. That's it. On a side note, if someday she should wake up and no longer have that ability, it wouldn't necessarily mean the ghosts wouldn't be there. Only that she could no longer see them."

My mother closed her eyes. "How am I going to tell your father about this?"

"I'd recommend not," Pia suggested.

My mother's eyes flew open. "You mean, lie to him? The same as you all have been doing with me?"

"No, dear, I mean don't bring up the subject. How likely is it that he's ever going to ask, 'So when did Reid start talking to ghosts?' I am suggesting mere avoidance, not lying." Gotta love Pia's brand of truth-telling.

"It still feels so wrong."

No doubt my mother was going to have difficulty going to church on Sundays, given the kind of secret she was now carrying.

"It's either that, or announce it to the world," Olivia postulated. "There's no shame in what she can do. Look at me. I make a living at it."

"Yeah, think of the money we can raise at the next church bake sale if instead of selling pies and cookies we hold a séance," I suggested.

"Point taken," my mother said. "Avoidance. It's the only way."

Glad to see we were all on the same page.

"So, what exactly is it that you were all doing?"

I took a backseat on this one and allowed Pia and Olivia to fill my mother in on all the details. My mother was surprisingly accepting for a woman whose world had just been turned upside-down and inside-out and otherwise mangled.

"So, this Cecilia is actually angry at Alex and not Sigreid at all. She's just more jealous that Sigreid is alive and she is not," my mother contemplated.

"What do you mean?" Pia asked.

"Well, these attacks, they only occurred after Sigreid moved in. I think it's only coincidental that they occurred whenever Sigreid had contact with Alex, since she's done so practically daily since her arrival. Or soon after.

"Anyway, Cecilia has to know that Sigreid doesn't pose any threat in the relationship department, therefore, it doesn't stand to reason that she's envious about their friendship. Moreover, from what she's said, she's furious at Alex since she blames him for her untimely death. Doesn't it stand to reason, that a girl who's had her life taken from her too young, who has remained a quiet spirit up until now and only became vengeful after another young girl took up residence, is envious about that? About the fact that Sigreid is still enjoying life while she has had her own taken away?"

Say what you want, but my mother is a very astute person. She may not always be able to communicate the thoughts that she has, but that doesn't stop her from putting them together in a better manner than anyone else.

"Brilliant deduction, Judy!" Pia enthused. "If I didn't already have a Watson, I'd want you!"

"What?"

"Nothing," I said, waving my hands to dismiss it. "So if Cecilia really is jealous that I'm still alive and she's not, what does that mean for me? I mean, she's not going to try to kill me or anything is she?"

"Unlikely," my mother said. "If she was, I think she would have done it by now. It sounds like there's really nothing she can do. So instead, she tries to scare you and make your life difficult."

"She succeeds," I grumbled.

"I don't suppose you have any more of that tea Gloria wasted- that was her name wasn't it? Gloria?" My mother was apparently well over her initial shock.

"Of course, Judy!" Pia headed for the kitchen with my mother following close behind. "Would you like some of those cookies now?"

"Cookies?" Olivia hoisted herself out of the chair and trailed along behind them.

Jean-Luc stayed behind for a moment, something I'd never seen him do.

"Did you need something?" I asked him.

He nodded, then finally said, in his thick French accent and a voice barely above a whisper, making it nearly impossible to understand him, "Toi et moi, nous allons parler. I was zinking. Eef, say, Alex and Cecilia zey were a couple and zey died togezer, like Gloria and- well comprendrez vous, comme c'est triste! Eh bien, I am curious. What if zere was a zird person involved? I mean, eef Olivia had found out where I was before zat fire killed me, I'd still be dead, zough by ozer means. Creuse-toi la tête!" As if realizing he'd said more than two words to someone other than his wife, he suddenly scurried after Olivia.

While I hadn't understood all that he had told me, I'd gotten the gist of it. If I wanted any peace in this house, I was going to have to find Alex and Cecilia's murderer. Add that to my to-do list. Find two murderers and one art thief, check, check, and double-check. How hard could it be to solve a forty year old case?

As it turns out, not nearly as hard as one thinks. As soon as I got to the gallery the next day, I began to do some research, via Google. I had no luck at all with finding much about Alex McDaniel. But less than an hour's research into Cecilia, I hit pay dirt. Having no last name to go on, instead I followed a different track. You'd be surprised how many pictures are on the internet from the Woodstock Festival. And, as it turns out, Cecilia was one of the attendees. There she was, bold as day, in her giant afro and the same suede skirt she was wearing now, though she was wearing a different top. She was busy making the peace symbol at the camera, while just to her left and only partially hidden by her leg, was a man who looked enough like Alex to be him. He was either passed out on the ground, or he was making out with the woman he was laying partially on top of. It was hard telling. Either was plausible I suppose.

Either way, I now had hard evidence of their lives together. Or at least together with other people. Or something. Hey, it was the free love era, maybe they had one of those weird open relationships. I wasn't going to judge.

After finding no further evidence of them on the internet (the picture was in no way labeled or tagged other than to say, Woodstock Festival, NY, 1969), I decided to go at things from another route.

Logging onto the local government website I clicked on the assessment office tab and looked up Pia's property. Before long I had the information on the original owner of the property, the man who had sold the property to Pia over twenty years ago, a man named Howard Martin, who had actually built the original main house. I vaguely remember Pia telling me this when I first told her about Alex. At that time Alex had been claiming he died while trying to rescue a little girl from a swimming pool on the property (his story had since changed dozens of times). Pia had failed to believe me (thanks to Alex's lies) telling me that there had only ever been one owner of the property- the man who had built it- and he had personally sold it to Pia. Further, according to him and the plans that he had turned over during the sale, there had never been a swimming pool.

Still, there was at least one human body (if you discounted Mike's) which had been long buried on the property, so either someone had dug a very big hole for that purpose, or there had in fact been a pool.

After a little more research, I was able to discover that Howard was an architect who lived with his wife Alyssa. The two were featured in many news stories in both magazines and newspapers for not only his successful career as an architect, but also because they were society favorites who partied harder and more often than Charlie Sheen. Winners.

There was one gossip column report in 1973 that spoke of a separation, but they must have gotten back together not long after that, because in New Year's of seventy-four there was a picture of the two of them tripping the light fantastic at some upscale hotel party. And who should be hanging around in the background but Alex himself, dressed in a tuxedo and hanging on the arm of some grand dame dolled up in diamonds and furs a la Olivia, though much smaller. Cecilia was nowhere to be seen, but I'd seen enough to put it all together and so I called Pia into my office. Naturally, Gloria was with her.

"All right, this is what I've got so far. The guy who sold you the house, one Howard Martin, was married to this chick," I showed her the pictures I'd been saving to my desktop. "From all reports, they were pretty heavy partiers and enjoyed the night life to the nth degree. Now look here, this party, New Year's 1974, look who's standing in the background."

"Alex!" Gloria exclaimed, which instantly reminded me that other than my painted depiction, Pia had never seen Alex. "That's Alex McDaniel."

"Ooohhhh. Who's the woman with him?"

"No clue. Just some society dame. Doesn't matter. I was looking at these pictures when I remembered something Gloria had said to me. I dismissed it at the time, but now it makes sense. She called Alex a gigolo. I thought she was just insulting him. It turns out she was just calling the kettle black."

"Hey!" Gloria protested.

"If you're a pot, own it," I told her.

"Gloria, stop interrupting!" said Pia. "Okay, so how does that connect Cecilia?"

"I'm not sure," I said. Then I showed her the picture from Woodstock. "Obviously they knew each other."

"It looks to me like he knows that other woman better."

"No doubt. I don't know if they were dating at that time or not. Or if they just met there. There are too many variables. Anyway, let's suppose for a minute, that Alex was dating Cecilia, and let's suppose that Cecilia allowed the free love behavior not so much because she liked it, but because it was expected. It was the free love era."

"Don't remind me," Pia rolled her eyes.

"Let's also suppose that Alex was never able to give up on that behavior and while attending one of these mucky-muck parties, gigolo status of course, he met Alyssa- Howard's wife."

Pia was catching on. "And let's suppose that Alex was conducting an affair with said wife when Howard came home from a long day's work and finds Alex cavorting with his wife."

"Exactly."

"So how does Cecilia fit in?"

"Like I said, I'm not sure yet. I'm still trying to work that out. But, I tell you Pia, finding information on these people is not that easy. Especially since I don't even know Cecilia's last name."

"And she's not likely to offer it up any time soon. So what do we do now? Should we call the police and give them this information?"

"I thought you didn't trust the police?"

"I never said I didn't trust them. What I said was, they are incompetent and can use all the help they can get."

I laughed. "Thanks for straightening that up for me. I'll call Jase."

"All right, dear. See you later," she wiggled her fingers and left the office.

"Nice work," Gloria said, disappearing through the door.

I wasn't sure what to think about a compliment from Gloria.

Before I had the opportunity to pick up the phone though, Ricky popped in, nearly scaring the wits out of me. "Holy cow! Wear a bell or something!" I said, bringing my hand to my chest to still my thudding heart. There was a chance it might need a nudge to put it back behind my ribcage where it belonged.

"Sorry," Ricky said. "Raphael told me you wanted to talk to me."

"Yes, as a matter of fact I did. I'm sorry about what happened to you."

He shrugged. "It is what it is and no one can change it. I'm just sorry you got hurt too. We were both innocent bystanders," he shot me his patented sexy grin. "Some of us less innocent than others."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't there to meet anyone, if that's what you mean," I remarked. Ricky had been in the warehouse because he was meeting with Simone. Or possibly Cat, now that I knew about her. I, on the other hand, was on an errand of mercy, in other words, Pia had sent me to 'investigate.'

"Anyway. Is that all you wanted?"

"No." Quickly I explained to him about the thefts and asked if he'd seen anything unusual.

"Not really," he shifted around nervously. Something was up, though what it was, I couldn't tell.

"What do you mean, not really? Either you saw something, or you didn't."

"I haven't seen anything since I've been a ghost. I was having a little trouble at first, so I really haven't seen much of anything that's been going on."

I instantly noticed the wording, 'since I've been a ghost.' "Okay, so you haven't seen anything since you've been a ghost. But what about before then? When you were still alive? Was there something going on you aren't telling me?"

Again with the shiftiness. This ghost had ants in his pants.

"Ricky, whoever you're trying to protect, they can't really do anything for you anymore. So what's the sense in protecting them?"

"I just don't wanna be a sellout."

"Was Simone taking the art work? Or was she using your affair to get you to help her?"

His stunned eyes met mine. Even in death there was a startling clarity to the blueness of them. "No! Simone wouldn't do anything like that!"

"Then who was it?" I thought I already knew, but I really wanted to get him to tell me.

"I don't know what you're talking about! Leave me alone! I'm a ghost now, I can haunt you!"

I laughed. "Honey, I'm currently being haunted by a rampaging lunatic of a poltergeist. What could you possibly do to me that she hasn't already done?"

Ricky backed out of the room then, disappearing into the wall. Apparently he hadn't yet learned how to 'poof.'

"Damn." I muttered to myself.

I was fairly certain now that I had it mostly put together, but I really didn't have any hard evidence.

Picking up the phone, I dialed Jase's personal cell. I was certain he was probably still at the station, but as I really didn't wish to talk to half a dozen flunkies before reaching him, this was better.

He picked up on the third ring. "Well, this is a pleasant surprise. Are you calling me because you're trapped in a hole, or being held hostage by a lunatic?"

"Neither. I just wanted to say hi," I fibbed. Only slightly. I'd get to the information in a minute.

"Well, then it really is a nice surprise. And, 'hi,' to you, too."

"Well, also, there is the fact that I have some information for you. I've been doing some investigation regarding the bones at the construction site."

"Okaaayyy." His good mood was slipping. Already. Just at the teeniest, tiniest mention of my investigation. We were going to have to work on this. I pressed on.

"I was doing a little research and it turns out," I realized only now, _after_ I had started the conversation, that there was no way to tell him why I was researching Alex McDaniel of all people. Now what?

"Turns out what?"

"Well, see, I was researching Howard Martin and-"

"Why in the hell would you do that?" he suddenly interrupted me, his tone fierce.

So much for his good mood.

"Because he owned the house before Pia," I explained. "It stands to reason that this guy might know something about the bones at the site."

"Let's assume you're right. Let's assume he does. Doesn't it, 'stand to reason,'" he deliberately mocked me using my own words- I wasn't sure I liked that, "that if he _knows_ about the bones, it's because he _put_ them there. And your little foray into investigative work has drawn a rather large target on you?"

I snorted. "Hardly likely since all of my investigation has taken place via the internet from the safety of my office."

"Ah, yes, because that certainly can't be traced."

I blanched. Okay, so maybe he had a point. A small, itsy, bitsy point. That was all I was willing to give him.

"All right, Nancy, what, may I ask, have you discovered that was so earth shattering regarding Mr. Martin?"

I frowned. "Watson, actually. And with that attitude, you'd be lucky that I share anything with you."

He chuckled. "Not much of a threat, honey. Remember, I am surrounded by professional investigators that do this sort of thing every day. As a matter of fact, the likelihood is, whatever you've discovered, we've known about for days. So keep the information to yourself if that makes you feel better. Either way, I gotta run, so if there isn't anything else?"

I debated doing exactly as he suggested, but since his 'professional investigators' weren't in communiqué with any ghosts, the likelihood of them making the connection (based on what little information I had been able to obtain from the internet) to Alex was nil to none, so I swallowed my pride and spit it out. Better that than have them running in circles for days to come.

"I discovered there was this guy that was hanging around Howard's wife an awful lot, a gigolo. And when I say hanging around a lot, I mean an _awful_ lot- as in incite-the-husband-into-a furious-murderous-rage lot. (I was desperately hoping Jase wouldn't want any evidence of this). The guy's name was Alex McDaniel. Anyway, I thought you might want to check into it."

"That's your earth shattering news?"

I was deflated.

To say the least.

And a little miffed.

" _That_?!" One could not fail to hear the incredulousness in his tone.

Slightly miffed quickly turned into full-blown peeved.

But since Jase could not see me, he had no idea he was treading in dangerous waters and kept right on talking. "The wife was having an affair with a gigolo? It was the seventies! Affairs were as popular as LSD. Everyone was sleeping with everyone. Hell, Howard probably hired the gigolo himself."

I couldn't hide the anger in my tone as I said, "Suppose for half an instant that he didn't. Also suppose that one day old Howie comes tripping home from work, briefcase in hand, only to find his wife and this Alex guy doing the nasty-"

" _Doing the_ _nasty_?" Now Jase was laughing. I was having a hard time remembering why I liked this guy so much.

"Call it what you will! My point is, Howie loses his mind, kills the gigolo and tosses him in the pool, right before he fills it in. Next thing you know Pia's finding bones in her back yard. Makes sense, now doesn't it?"

Jase let out a low whistle. "For a lot of supposition, it makes sense, yes. Except, while we are still excavating the rest of the remains and won't have any of the results back from forensics for at least a couple of weeks, we do know one thing."

"What's that?"

"The jawbone didn't belong to some guy named Alex McDaniel. Or any other guy for that matter. It belonged to a woman."

"Oh."

"Yes, 'oh.' _Now_ will you leave this to the professionals?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever," I said aloud, though what I was really thinking was that I still had hours of research in front of me. If the bones belonged to a woman, then it was either Cecilia, or Alyssa. Either way, I was still convinced Howard was involved. All those pictures on the internet made me read him as little more than a wealthy sleaze-bag.

"Listen, what are you doing tomorrow night?" I could tell Jase was trying to soften the blow. I decided not to make it easy on him.

"You've been awfully sarcastic to me for a guy who's looking for a date."

"I have, haven't I? I'm sorry. I know you're trying to help and I get that. I just worry about you getting mixed up in the melee when it's so unnecessary. I don't want to see you get hurt. Anymore."

Maybe he had a point. And damn, I hadn't expected him to acquiesce so easily.

He must have known he'd already won, because he pressed on, "So anyway, I was thinking, maybe you and I could get together and go out someplace, just the two of us, no Pia, no Robert, no anyone else. What do you say?"

"And no my mother."

"What?"

"Yeah, she's back in town."

"But didn't she just leave like a day or so ago? I thought she was only here for the weekend, for your birthday?"

"She's like a boomerang. Or a yo-yo. Or another thing that comes bouncing back. After keeping the car accident from her, she didn't trust me not to tell her everything that was going on regarding the investigation of Mike's murder, so, the day after she got home, she took the car and came back."

"And your father's okay with that?"

"He doesn't even try to stop her. It's like holding back a wall of water. You'll never succeed, you'll just get crushed and drowned for your effort. Anyway, he didn't come 'cause he has enough sense to know there's nothing he can do here and he has a farm to run."

"Glad someone in your family understands the parameters of their own job descriptions."

"Again I say, whatever. For a guy who's looking for a date, you sure aren't trying very hard."

"Do I have to?"

I thought about this for a minute before answering honestly. "No, you do not."

"Okay then. See you tomorrow night?"

"If I don't fall into another pit."

"Or find another dead body."

"Or get crushed into a building by a car."

"Okay, now that one's not funny."

"I didn't think any of them were."

"I'm hanging up now."

"Bye."

"Bye." With that he disconnected.

I stared at the receiver for a minute and then returned it to the base.

A woman, eh?

All right then, time to fire up Google.

Chapter Eighteen

I spent the rest of the day researching. Not exactly what I was paid to do, but I knew Pia wouldn't mind. Besides, I had already solved one of her cases, though I was still at a loss as to how to prove it.

My additional research on Howard was less enlightening than my earlier results. More pictures of him partying hard. More pictures of his wife partying hard. But no actual physical evidence of anything else. I couldn't find a birth certificate on the wife (mainly because I did not know her maiden name and had failed to find any reference to it anywhere). Also, I had been unable to locate a marriage license, or a death certificate for either one. Either they were both still alive and kicking somewhere, or there was no record of either of their deaths.

One thing of interest I had found though, was that not long after selling the property to Pia, Howard had liquidated all of his other assets (nothing illegal about that) and 'retired' to some foreign island. There were varying reports as to his location (primarily from gossip columns), but over time people lost interest in his activities and as he had done nothing illegal, no one really cared where he was. Except for me, of course.

The man had to be in his late sixties to early seventies judging by the pictures of his rocking his way through the seventies, eighties and even into the nineties, not long before he had sold the property to Pia. And the whole time, his wife was still beside him. Meaning, if there had been an affair, they had stayed together despite it. Too bad I hadn't furthered my investigation before I had blurted my theory out to Jase. No wonder he thought I was an idiot. Here I was, accusing some wealthy icon of murder most foul, when in reality there was no proof of any such thing. There was no motive. There was no means. There was no case.

I was confused and disgusted. This was getting me nowhere. Shutting down the computer, I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling, trying to put the whirling dates in my mind in some sensible order.

1969: Cecilia in a photograph at Woodstock with Alex right behind her.

1974: Howard and Alyssa at a New Year's party with Alex right behind them.

1991: The last known picture of Howard and Alyssa partying hard into their fifties, give or take.

1992: Howard sells the property to Pia along with all of his other assets and disappears into the sunset. Unknown if his wife is with him.

2012: Reid Larson sits in her office giving herself a migraine trying to solve a decades old mystery that might turn out to be nothing at all.

Suddenly there was a tap at the door. Expecting Pia, (it was nearing closing time) I called out to her to come in.

It was Zoe.

Damn. My luck was just awful lately.

"Hey. Did you need something?"

Zoe looked decidedly uncomfortable. "I had these calls for Pia and I don't know what to do about them. Some of them seem pretty important, but she's locked herself in her office all day and won't take any calls. Do you know what she's doing in there?"

"Nothing you need to concern yourself about. Let me see the calls." I leaned forward to take the list from her and as she leaned forward to do the same, her necklace slipped out of her blouse and just as quickly the last piece of the puzzle slipped into place.

"That's a pretty necklace," I told her.

She looked down and fingered it a second before slipping it back under her shirt. "Yeah. It's my sorority necklace from when I was in college."

"It's very unusual." And it was. The pendant itself was in the shape of a turtle, with a pink rose painted on its back, and what looked like a small triangle and a 'Z' right next to it. The writing was so tiny that part was pretty difficult to see, but I was fairly certain I was right.

"Yeah. It's not really official or anything. It's just something me and some of my sisters put together and had made. Just for us, you know."

Yes, because sororities simply weren't exclusive enough. One must have a sorority inside a sorority.

"I'm pretty sure I've seen that somewhere before," I pressed.

Zoe paled. "I don't know why you would have."

"It looks fairly identical to the one Cat slapped herself in the face with that day at the park. So the two of you were sorority sisters, eh? How long did it take you two to plan the scheme to rob Pia? And exactly whose idea was it anyway? I'd bet hers. Somehow I can't see you as the brains of the operation."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Zoe was saying even as she was backing towards the door. Was the idiot actually going to try and make a run for it?

My question was answered as she made her move, throwing the notebook at me while simultaneously wrenching the door open and racing down the hall.

Naturally, I went after her.

I tackled her (something I'm getting to be very good at) in the middle of the showroom floor, only taking out one sculpture in my effort.

"Oh, my God! What is _wrong_ with you?!" Simone shrieked from her position near the front counter.

"Simone! Call the police!" I yelled at her even as I struggled to hold onto Zoe who was not giving up the fight and was wriggling, clawing, and screeching for all she was worth.

"Good God, Reid! What are you doing to that girl?" Giorgio exclaimed.

Pia came running out of her office, no doubt the melee occurring in her gallery had a lot to do with it, and Maya was hot on her heels with Gloria right beside her. They both skidded to a halt on the marble floor only inches from where I lay on top of Zoe, while Gloria bobbed above us. Their reactions were distinctly different.

Maya, who had never liked Zoe to begin with, was doing everything in her power to stem the giggling erupting from her throat, even going to the point of shoving her own fist in her mouth.

Meanwhile, Gloria exclaimed, "Go get 'em Tex! Ride 'em cowboy!"

Pia on the other hand was staring down at me with a hard glare. "Do you honestly think this was necessary, Reid?"

I looked up at her and spit a piece of Zoe's hair out of my mouth. "I caught your thief, Pia. Now will _someone_ _please_ call the police! Ow!" The latter was in response to the hard bite Zoe applied to my hand.

"Oh, dear." Pia said. "Are you certain?"

"Would I be lying on top of her, if I wasn't?"

Another hard look from Pia.

"Okay. Don't answer that. I have been known to jump to conclusions. Still, ask her. She'll tell you."

"I won't tell you any such thing!" Zoe grunted from beneath me. "I don't even know what she's talking about. She's a crazy person! Get her off of me! NOW!"

My mother chose that precise moment to walk in the door. "Sigreid Larson! What _are_ you doing to that girl?!"

"She's a thief, Mom. I'm only holding her until the police get here."

"Isn't there a more appropriate manner in which you can do so?" As usual, she took charge. Noting that there were no customers in the gallery (for which I was extremely grateful), she moved to lock the doors. "All right now; get off of her."

"She'll run, Mom. I promise you."

"Honestly, use your head, Sigreid. Where has she got to go?"

Slowly I did as I was told, preparing for any quick moves on Zoe's part. Sadly, there were none. I really wanted the satisfaction of tackling her into the floor again.

From the look on Maya's face, she was wishing for the same thing.

"Now, what is this all about?"

Quickly I explained to them about the necklace and Zoe's reaction to my accusation.

My mother sighed. "That's hardly evidence. Circumstantial at best. Someone get this poor girl a glass of water. And a band-aid for her knee."

My mother helped Zoe to a chair. "Sigreid, you have got to stop jumping to conclusions. The only thing you know is that this girl might possibly have known another girl who used to work here. There are thousands, probably even millions of girls who are members of sororities. Just because you're a member of one, doesn't mean you know every other member.

"Now, dear, sip this," my mother was saying even as she handed the water over to Zoe.

Zoe eyed me over the rim of the glass distrustfully.

Who could blame her? I had just jumped her like I wanted her Gucci wallet.

Maybe my mother was right. Maybe, just like the whole Howard Martin thing, I had jumped to conclusions. Cat and Zoe had acted as if they'd never met each other at the park. Either they were both very good actresses, or they had in fact never met. But if that were the case, why didn't Zoe comment on the necklace? And hadn't Zoe just told me only a few of the girls had purchased these necklaces? It stood to reason that they must know each other.

"Now, Zoe, isn't it?" my mother was asking. Zoe nodded her answer and my mother continued, "Don't you worry about a thing. I'm quite certain this can all be cleared up in no time. Pia has security cameras all over this place, even in the warehouse. All it will take is a quick review to prove your innocence."

Her guilt more likely.

"I've been doing that all day," Pia informed my mother. "And as of yet I haven't found one lick of evidence that anyone has been taking anything from the warehouse that they haven't been bringing to the floor."

"Well, that's tricky, isn't it?" my mother said. "But, no matter. You see, Giorgio told me about the thefts the last time I was in here and he and I have devised a plan. You haven't told them about it yet, have you?" she asked him.

Giorgio shook his head, clearly befuddled.

"Well, then I shall. You see, the idea was to coat all of the objects in the warehouse with this special fluorescent powder we obtained. It can't be seen under normal circumstances you understand, but under a black light it glows like fireworks on the fourth of July. It's the same kind of technology they use to spot counterfeit bills. The handy thing about it is, it can't be washed or wiped off. It takes some time for all of it to wear away. So, quite simply, we pass a person's hands under the black light, and voila, right away we know who's been handling it! Genius really!"

"But everyone in here handles the artwork at one time or another," Zoe said. "How does that prove anything?"

"Simple. Have you noticed anyone going to the warehouse to get artwork lately?"

Zoe thought about this. Long and hard. I could almost see the smoke coming out of her ears. "Not except Giorgio. You don't think he's the thief do you?"

My mother laughed a tinkling little laugh. "Not hardly. You see, Giorgio changed the rules. He no longer calls on the salesperson, or the warehouse men to move the art work for him. He does it all himself. And he always wears gloves. Once he has the art on the floor he uses the specialized wipes provided with the kit to remove the powder. So you see anyone with paint on their hands has been where they oughtn't to be."

My mother began moving to the counter, "You won't mind holding your hands under this light for a moment, will you? It won't hurt a bit."

Zoe instantly began to cry. "It's not my fault! She made me do it! You don't know how horrible she is! Cat is the only one who knows my parents and knows the things I did when I was away at college. She was doing it all right beside me, but her parents don't even care. But if my parents ever found out, they'd disown me. I'd lose my inheritance and everything!" This last ended on an eardrum-shattering wail.

My mother signaled to Giorgio to call the police, which he did, even as she was moving over to sympathize with Zoe. "Of course, dear. I understand. It's very unfair. What exactly was it that Cat made you do?"

"She made me steal the artwork. At first she was doing it herself, but then Pia fired her and she made me go up for the job because she said she needed an inside person. But she never understood- it was much harder for me. Pia put in all these security cameras and everyone was always around watching. But Cat would get mad at me and say I wasn't taking enough, I wasn't bringing her stuff fast enough."

"How did you manage to get what you did? You must have been very clever. More so than Cat gave ever you credit for."

"I was," Zoe nodded, sniffling at the same time. "It was hard. Sometimes I would have to go back there two and three times in a day. It got so I had to find a way around the security cameras. I found out that if you stayed very close to the walls you could just manage to stay off camera. That meant I could only take things that were in the corners back by the cameras and out of their range. I always had to wait for the warehouse guys to be moving things around- Hey! I thought you said no one was allowed to touch the art anymore? They were still moving it so their hands would be all powdery."

My mother sighed. "I'm afraid I told you a bit of a fib. But you're in too deep now, Zoe. There are witnesses to your confession. You may as well go on."

"I'm not talking anymore. I want a lawyer!" With that Zoe folded her arms over her chest and refused to speak another word, which was okay, since the police were already arriving and we had to let them in.

Jase gave me the hairy eyeball as he walked in.

I stuck my tongue out at him.

He smiled and moved over to Pia. "What's going on? We had a report of a thief on the premises?"

It took nearly an hour to get everyone's statement and Zoe was hauled away in cuffs, sniveling every step of the way. Squad cars had already been sent to both Cat's place of work and her home. The two sorority girls would be living together again. This time though, the accommodations wouldn't be nearly as nice. And they probably wouldn't be allowed to keep their necklaces. What a shame.

Jase locked up behind the last policeman, opting to stay behind for a minute.

"You tackled her?" he asked me, clearly astounded.

"What else was I supposed to do?"

"Call the police?"

"It tried to tell them to do that, but no one was listening."

"Maybe because you asked them _after_ you were sitting on the girl," my mother reminded me.

"Semantics."

"And you," Jase looked at my mother. "You do realize you coerced a statement out of her?"

"Since I'm not a policeman, I don't think that counts at all."

"I hope the prosecuting attorney agrees with you."

"If they don't, give me a call."

Jase laughed, watching as she walked away to join in a conversation with Pia and Giorgio. "No wonder you and Pia are friends. Pia's not a far cry from your mother."

I watched the two women in question. "No, I guess she's not. No wonder I feel right at home here."

"The question is- how much are you like them?" Jase was studying me.

"I don't know. You tell me. Can you see either one of them football tackling a criminal?"

He laughed again. "Good answer."

Chapter Nineteen

Jase dropped me off at Pia's house while Pia stayed behind at the gallery with my mother and Giorgio who were trying to fulfill Jase's request to find any pictures of some of the stolen artwork. They intended to perform a search not only at Zoe's home, but at Cat's as well, along with the gallery that Cat was currently employed at. I'd just bet she was no longer employed. I'd also bet that even now the gallery owner was hiring a team of lawyers to protect him in the event of any lawsuit coming his way.

The house was still empty with Bernard away on his business trip, but I didn't mind. In fact, I was looking forward to a little peace and quiet. Assuming the resident ghosts gave me any. I was passing by the living room on my way to the kitchen when a light suddenly turned on in the room. As I hadn't flipped any switches, I was fairly certain that Cecilia was messing with me, but stepped in to investigate anyway.

That's when I realized Jase was right. All this investigation was going to get me killed.

An old man was sitting hunched in the chair only a few feet away from me, holding a gun on me. A very large gun. As in large caliber, large hole. I swallowed hard. I think my tonsils went with it. Possibly my tongue, too.

Forcing a bravado I didn't necessarily feel (or, rather, felt not at all), I ignored the gun and looked only at his face. He was a couple decades older than the last time I'd seen him, or at least seen a picture of him, but still, I was able to recognize him.

"Howard Martin," I said.

"So you know me then?"

"You were quite the icon in your day."

"Ah, so I _have_ left my mark on society."

I felt it best not to continue following this hazardous path of the discussion, (no sense taunting the man with the gun) so I branched off in another direction, "What are you doing here?"

"I should think that would be obvious," he replied, waving the gun at me. "I'm waiting for you."

"Okay. I'll bite. Why?"

"You really haven't figured it out by now?" he asked. He gave a little laugh. "Somehow I expected more. I don't know why I was so convinced. Could it be I've overestimated your intelligence? I want you to know, I never intended to kill you. It was all just an unfortunate set of circumstances."

"Good to know. Can I go now?"

"I said I _never_ intended to kill you. Not that I _won't_ kill you. But now, you leave me no choice."

_What?_ This was like an episode of Scooby-Doo gone wrong. Now all I needed was Fred, Daphne, Velma, one chicken-hearted dog, and a brilliantly planned Rube Goldberg-like trap and I'd be all set.

"Just because I know you murdered Alex McDaniel?" I said, working hard to keep Shaggy's legendary squeak out of my voice. _Zoiks_. "But there's not even any proof of that. You're safe. You're a free man. You can go now."

He shook his head. "If it were only that easy. But, there have been too many mistakes. And none of them was killing Alex."

Wow! Talk about your cold killers! He wasn't even sorry he'd murdered poor Alex.

Poor Alex my foot. The man was a two-timing gigolo. He probably deserved what he got and then some.

Did I really just think that?

"All right then, so here's the deal. I promise not to tell anyone anything about Alex, and you promise not to kill me."

"No deals. Besides, weren't you paying attention? I didn't kill Alex."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "If you didn't, then who did?"

"I did!" Cecilia suddenly popped into the room. "I followed the snake here and caught him with Howard's wife Alyssa. I shot his sorry ass for it, too!"

At the same time, Howard was saying, "I'm not sure really. My wife said some black woman broke into the house and shot him. She didn't know who it was. But then when the woman turned the gun on my wife, Alyssa was forced to defend herself. She pulled the gun from the nightstand and killed her. It was like the gunfight at the O.K. Corral in my bedroom."

"Then what on earth are you trying to hide? If you were completely innocent-"

"I never said I was completely innocent. We were forced into a corner, my wife and I. I had a choice. Either call the police and let them handle the matter, which would inevitably lead to an investigation, a lengthy and expensive defense trial, and a whole lot of scandal. Or, dispose of the bodies and pretend it never happened. Since Alex was little more than a drifter and no one even knew who the woman was, it was simple enough to do."

"So you dumped their bodies in the pool and filled it in," I finished for him. I was beginning to think there wasn't an innocent party among them.

"Then I altered all the recorded paperwork to reflect the fact that there never had been a pool. It was simple enough. Being an architect I had access to pretty much anything I needed."

"So, what's the problem then? You got away with it. Why come back now?"

"You really are a stupid girl."

"So everyone keeps telling me."

"Then do something to prove you're smarter!" he suddenly snapped. "I had gotten away with it. At least for a little while. But unfortunately, my wife couldn't seem to get past it. She sunk into a deep depression that she couldn't seem to snap out of. She was taking medications by the handful and still she couldn't forget about that woman. She talked about her all the time. She said she was haunting her. She would babble on for hours and hours about the black woman's ghost. It got so we could never have company over and I had to be very careful whenever I took Alyssa out. I was terrified she was going to tell someone. Naturally I told her she was nuts, but she wouldn't listen.

"And then one day I'd had enough. Something inside me just snapped. Alyssa was whining about the ghost, saying she'd never have a minute's peace so long as she was alive, and I told her I knew exactly how she felt. I knew I'd never have a minute's peace as long as Alyssa was alive. And so I shot her.

"Hiding her body was going to be far more difficult since I had already filled in the pool. So, instead of leaving her here, I drove out to her family's home and buried her in the family plot in the middle of the night. No funeral, no tombstone, but it was the best I could do for her. At least she was with her family. And I was feeling a little bad about what I had done.

"Of course, that put an end to my existence. There was no way I could stay and explain away her absence. Too many questions would be asked. So, I sold everything I could, packed up, and headed for the Bahamas. Enough years went by that I thought I could return and I was missing my home. I've lived here all my life. The islands are a great place to visit, but you really don't want to live there. And I was too old to party anymore, so what else was left me? So, I came back and not long after the letters started."

"The letters?"

"Blackmail. Someone knew what I had done. They were threatening to expose me. I did a little investigating and soon discovered who it was. My wife's son."

"Your son?"

"No. My wife's son. He may have been mine, but the way she slept around it was hard telling."

All the articles I had read on Google were all starting to come together. "The separation in seventy-three. She went away to give birth!"

"Her parents were wealthy in their own right. They owned a very successful construction firm and a decent amount of property. So they kept the baby and raised him. They never even told me about him. I can only assume that they either never questioned their daughter's disappearance, or they never realized she had disappeared. They had in fact written her off as a lost cause years before. They never approved of our social life. Still, they kept their grandson and raised him. They must have loved him because eventually they left their construction firm to him."

"Oh, my God! Mike Holbeck!" I was finally connecting the dots. Maybe everyone was right. I really am stupid.

"Precisely. His stupid grandparents had raised him believing that I was his father. They blamed me for taking their daughter away from them and ruining her. And then he grew up and spent a lifetime trying to reunite with his parents, only to find that all that was left was a man he wasn't even sure was his father. So even though he had plenty of money on his own, he was blackmailing me for what was left of mine. His inheritance, he called it."

"How long were you paying him?"

"I don't know. Four or five years. And then one day he told me Pia had hired him to do the remodel on her guesthouse. I knew she had inadvertently built the damn thing right over the pool and I could not possibly allow him to dig. So I tried to stop her the only way I knew how."

"It was you who drove the car into the building that day!" I was stunned. "But you were aiming for Pia, not me."

He shrugged. "What can I say? My sight's not what it used to be."

"But then, the police must know. Surely they've made the connection by now who you are? They have to know that you are connected to Pia through this house."

"You honestly think I came here using my own name? No, I use an alias. You'll like it. I call myself Alex McDaniel. It's not hard to find the right people to get you all the things you need to create a new identity. Not if you flash enough cash. And so I was reborn. So as far as the cops know, some old geezer lost control of his car and ran into a building. Innocent enough. But then, after they put me up in the hospital, I slipped out in the middle of the night. They're probably still looking for me. Though not too hard I suspect. There are worse crimes than being old and addle-brained. Which is exactly what they thought I was.

"Then, I came back here and met Mike right after your party. He wasn't quite as tough as he looked. One swing of the shovel and he was pretty much a goner. I may not be able to stand up straight, thanks to the arthritis in my back, but I still carry around a lot of muscle. I dumped him in the hole, intending to bury him with some dirt, just enough that his body didn't show. I altered his task list for the next day, making pouring the concrete for the foundation the first thing for the crew to start with. If there's one thing I know, it's foremen. They get their crew to working right away 'cause they wanna be sure to get rehired. His foreman wasn't gonna hang around waiting for him to start the work. By the time anyone realized Mike was missing, his body would be well hidden and they'd find his car in Tecumseh, or whatever other faraway place I decided to drop it off at."

"But then I got in the way. So you had to kill me, too."

"And that's what I'm going to have to do now."

Cecilia suddenly screamed. She had been so silent I had forgotten she was even in the room. The wind picked up as it had done before, spinning wild circles all around us, flinging knickknacks and pictures and other small objects with it.

Alex suddenly appeared and quickly assessing the situation, presumably recognizing Howard, and hopefully seeing the gun, he joined in the melee, picking up everything he could lay his hands on and pelting Howard with it.

The old man jumped from the chair, scared witless. "What the hell is happening?" he cried.

I ducked down behind the sofa as Olivia had done not long before. "I believe that is the ghost of Cecilia, the woman your wife killed, coming back to seek her revenge! Your wife wasn't so crazy after all. And oh! Look! Your wife is with her."

Okay, so that last was a lie. But who cares. It doesn't count when you're lying to a murderer.

"Alyssa?" The old man looked wildly about the room, ignoring the objects that were still pelting him. "Alyssa? Is that really you, baby?"

I could barely hear him over the sound of the wind and Cecilia's screeching.

"Alyssa, I'm sorry, baby! I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you! I just lost my temper, that's all. I was so scared you were going to give us away! I had to stop you!"

Cecilia's screeching continued, if anything, it got louder, even as the whirlwind grew. Curtains flapped so hard against the windows I expected the rods to tear clean off the walls. Furniture was actually beginning to scoot under the pressure of the wind and I suddenly had an idea of what it must feel like to be caught inside a tornado. Lamps crashed, the broken glass of which joined the rest of the objects flying about the room.

Bits of the glass impaled Howard's face but he ignored it as he went on pleading. "Please, baby, tell me you understand! Tell me you forgive me!" He sunk to his knees.

At first I thought it was a pleading gesture, but when he dropped the gun and I saw he was clenching his chest, I realized he was having a heart attack!

I jumped out from behind the couch. "Cecilia! Stop! Please, stop! Let me help him!"

Alex immediately quit, but Cecilia didn't give in as easily. She didn't slow the wind, but she did stop screaming. "Why you wanna go and help that fool for?! He's a murdering SOB, that's what he is!"

"Maybe so, but I can't watch him die and do nothing!"

I hurried over to him, flipped him on his back, and tried desperately to remember everything I'd ever been taught in my CPR class. Open restricted airways. I loosened his shirt. Tilt head back. He hadn't been kidding about the arthritis, even over the wind I heard the bones of his neck grind as I tried to force his head back. Fifteen compressions to one breath, or was it ten to one? I couldn't remember, so I just did the best I could.

I don't know how long I worked over him before I realized Cecilia had stopped everything. There was no more wind, no more flying objects, just silence. Still, I kept going.

Finally Cecilia crouched beside me. "You can stop now, honey. He's gone. I saw him leave a second ago."

I pressed on.

"Do you hear me, girl? I said he's gone. You can stop!"

I looked over at her. "Are you telling me the truth, or are you lying? Because if you are lying and I stop, I'll never forgive you."

"I ain't lying. He's gone."

All the energy went out of me and I sat back on my heels.

And bawled like a baby.

"Why you cryin' over him, girl? He wasn't worth the spit on your shoe! You did the best you could, which was far more than he ever deserved!"

She was right of course. I cried anyway. Maybe it was a release of the stress of everything, maybe I had finally lost my mind, maybe I was just tired. Whatever the reason, I sobbed as if my heart were broken and would never heal again.

By the time I got myself together again, Cecilia was kneeling beside me and had one of her hands cupped over mine, as if she were holding it. The iciness that I'd felt from her before was gone. Oh, the sensation was still cold, but not that god-awful bone chilling sensation I remembered from before. On her face was an expression of concern, something I was not used to getting from her. And that's when I noticed the strange glow around her. A light formed something akin to a halo around her entire form and it seemed to be growing.

"Cecilia?"

"I feel strange," was all she said. Then she tipped back her head and smiled, an exultant smile as if she were experiencing the greatest form of ecstasy a person could feel. The light continued to grow brighter and suddenly it seemed to be coming not just from around her, but from inside of her as well. Beams of brightness flashed from every orifice, eyes, nose, ears and mouth. And then, within seconds she had faded into nothingness and was gone. Somehow I knew she was gone forever. She had moved on to wherever it was that ghosts went next.

I picked myself up off the floor and began making phone calls.

Chapter Twenty

By the time Pia and my mother had arrived home, I had already called the police and they were greeted by dozens of squad cars, no doubt throwing them into a complete panic. I was sitting in the kitchen with Jase when they came flying in.

Gloria took one look at Alex sitting on the counter and said, "What the hell happened here? What's with the dead geezer in the living room and where's Cecilia? Did she try to kill Reid again?"

"Shut up, Gloria," was his only response. Alex was feeling a bit touchy about Cecilia's having moved on while he remained behind.

Jase quickly brought my mother and Pia up to date on what had happened, using the excuse I had given him for the destruction in the living room as my having utilizing everything in my power for self-preservation.

Naturally, Pia was quick to forgive me. I hoped she realized Cecilia was to blame for any broken objects. If not, I'd explain later.

"What I don't understand is, how did he think he could possibly get away with this?" my mother was asking Jase.

"That's a good question. The fact that he had gotten away with it once before, naturally made him more fearless. I'm sure he thought he was invincible. But we were already on to him. The car accident had never set well with us in the first place. And the fact that he'd snuck out of the hospital in the middle of the night already had us investigating. But as he was using an alias, we kept hitting dead-ends. Then Reid unknowingly gave us the connection that we needed.

"This Alex McDaniel guy she found in her research, ( _my mother kept her tongue, thankfully, though she did blanch a little at the mention of the name_ ), was a high-priced gigolo that traveled in the same circles Howard did, though for different reasons, obviously."

"Obviously," Gloria snorted, though of course Jase didn't hear her.

"Alex had been conducting illicit affairs with several of the society ladies and Howard's wife was one of them. It was Howard's own sense of invincibility that led him to use that name. We finally had everything we needed to connect Howard to the car accident, as well as the murder of Mike Holbeck to prevent him from finding the bodies Howard knew were hidden here. It's only a matter of time before forensics gives us the evidence we need to prove the two skeletons belong to Alex McDaniel and Cecilia Everhart."

So that was her name. It was pretty. I wished I could tell her that.

"We've already exhumed the remains of the body we believe to be Alyssa Holbeck Martin from her family plot. Again, we only have to wait on the forensics results. Given that the murderer is now dead, I guess there isn't any rush."

"Like hell there ain't!" Alex muttered. "I waited a lifetime for this!"

"A deathtime, sweetie," Gloria told him. "You've waited a deathtime. Besides, how does it affect you? I mean, Howard killed Alyssa, not you."

"How did it affect me? I loved Alyssa!" Alex protested.

"Oh, please! You aren't capable of loving anyone but yourself, dead or alive!"

As I listened to them argue back and forth, I realized there wasn't a single person involved in this thing that was innocent. Every one of them was up to some kind of mischief or other. Sleeping around, murdering one another, hiding bodies, blackmailing. I decided I didn't feel sorry for a single one of them.

"Reid?" Jase snapped his fingers in front of my face. "Are you hearing me? If you're not up to our date tomorrow night, I'll certainly understand."

"Uh-uh! No way are you getting out of this one buster! For once I am not lying in a hospital room! We are having a real date, at a real restaurant, and then you are taking me to a real movie!"

"Whatever you say, Nancy!" he grinned at me.

"Watson," I corrected, though it became a chorus as Pia chimed in with me.

"Watson it is," he complied. "Then I guess I'd better go and let you get some beauty sleep." The rest of the emergency workers had already left, taking Howard's body with them, and Jase was the last remaining. As much as I may have wanted to spend some time alone with him, I was too exhausted, physically and emotionally, to do anything other than crawl into my bed and sleep for the next eight to ten hours.

I walked Jase to the door where we shared a few kisses and then I let him out.

As I turned around I caught a glance of movement out of the corner of my eye. There was something moving in the living room. I walked to the doorway and peered in, staring hard. And there it was again. Nothing more than a slight shadow, shimmering somewhere near the chair.

"Not now, Howard," I said turning off the light and plunging the room into darkness. And then, just for good measure, I slid the pocket doors closed. I'd deal with that tomorrow. More than likely I wouldn't have to deal with it for at least a week since it takes awhile for ghosts to 'get to sticking' as Raphael likes to say.

I was headed back to the kitchen when the doorbell rang followed by a resounding rap.

Wondering what Jase might have forgotten, I turned back calling out to Pia, "I got it!"

There on the doorstep stood one of the oddest women I'd ever laid eyes on. Somewhere in her mid-to-upper fifties, she was swathed from head to toe in layers upon layers of fabric. She wore a floor length quilted skirt made up of patches of fabric in bright and busy patterns. A peasant blouse hung loose over that, with several scarves draped around her neck, twisted together to create a very elaborate and very heavy necklace of sorts. Her make-up- bright green eye-shadow from lid to brow, heavy black eyeliner and mascara, and brilliant orange lipstick- was nearly as shocking as her outfit. Her hair, dyed a bright orange (to match her lips one might suppose), was a mass of frizzy curls that stuck nearly straight out from her head a la Bozo the Clown, even jutting through the giant gold hoop earrings she wore. In short, she looked like she was shy one crystal ball to tell me my Gypsy fortune.

"Can I help you?"

Her eyes narrowed at me. They were strangely familiar, though I couldn't quite figure out why. "Is Priscilla home?" she asked.

"I'm sorry, you must have the wrong house, there's no Priscilla here."

She laughed, a trilling sound. "It's been awhile, but I'm quite certain that I have the correct house!"

For the first time I noticed her English accent and I began to become somewhat suspicious. "Who are you?"

At that point Pia joined me at the doorway. "Frances! Whatever are you doing here?"

The woman smiled a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Now, is that anyway to greet your sister, Priscilla?"

******

A Note from the Author

Often when I am writing, I find myself integrating certain of the personalities I know in real life into my characters. I have recently been asked about those personalities and wanted to verify that indeed, some of these stereotypes are very true. In no time I discovered Reid was a mixture of several personalities: my daughter, my friend and the co-author of one of my blogs, and I are all mixed into the wonderful mash that becomes Reid. Further, Reid's mother is immediately recognizable by one and all to be none other than myself. It wasn't a deliberate intent, it just sort of happened, but there it is. After that, Jase, Gloria, Simone, Robert, Dane, and even good old Jaques are at least somewhat patterned after the colorful people that speckle my life, and I thank them (good or bad) for the inspiration behind these characters. Having said that, I have never really met a person quite like Pia, but I would most certainly like to!

I've had the most fun writing the Hamptons books than I think I've ever had writing before. It feels less like work and more like play every time I do it. I have completely fallen in love with all of the characters (although I do have favorites), and I am often surprised by the antics they get into. I am currently working on the third book in the series and have decided to add a little bonus 'Sneak Peek' at Family and Fiends in the Hamptons. I hope you all look forward to it as much as I do!

Lastly, I want to take a minute to thank my family, my friends, and my fans. You are all appreciated much more than you will ever know!

******

Sneak Peek

Family and Fiends in the Hamptons

Book Three of the Hampton's Series

Chapter One

_Priscilla? Her sister?_ I could not have been more stunned if Pia had suddenly stripped naked in the doorway and begun to dance a jig.

Allow me to explain.

My name is Reid Larson and recently I made the move to the Hamptons where I work at the Darcy-Stillwell Fine Art Gallery. I work for (and currently live with) Pia Darcy-Stillwell, who up until this moment I had always been led to believe was an only child, named Pia. Considering the odd woman (Pia's sister Frances) standing before me in full Gypsy regalia with shocking orange hair and lipstick to match, I could kind of understand that little white lie. Further, considering Pia's obsession with names (she hates mine- my full name is Sigreid), I could also understand why she would change hers from Priscilla to Pia. However, what I could _not_ understand was what this strange woman was doing here, late at night, standing on Pia's doorstep.

Frances managed answering that question without my even asking it, as suddenly, up the walk came trundling an older man, carting what looked to be half a dozen suitcases and dragging another behind him. On his heels was a young man, roughly my age, or thereabouts, and a very large woman, also somewhere in her mid-twenties. Even further behind them were a passel of boys in a variety of ages. The eldest may have been eleven or so, and was dragging the youngest, somewhere in the neighborhood of two years old, while the third child, maybe four, brought up the rear, dragging the toes of his shoes along the sidewalk every step of the way.

I was already making plans for my escape when Pia said, (rather shakily, I might add), "Frances, now is not really a good time for a visit..."

"What?! You must be joking!" the other woman objected. "We've had this thing planned for ages, Prissy! Simply ages! You can't back out now! As if you would," the woman kind of chuckled to herself as if Pia's objections were nothing but a silly joke; all the while she shoved herself past me, through the doorway, and around Pia.

"Bring them in here for now, Freddie!" she called back to the man who was presumably her husband, whereupon Freddie, who looked as if he might pass out any second from the strain of having been turned into a pack mule, forced his suitcase muddled form through the doorway, taking a chunk or two of the frame with him as he went.

"No, Frances, you simply don't understand!" Pia tried again. "I already have guests. I don't think I have the room to accommodate all of you."

"Nonsense! This house is big enough to accommodate half the British army, dear!" Then, turning to her husband, Frances snapped, "Put them down, Freddie, before you have an apoplectic fit."

"Right here, Frannie?" he asked, obviously befuddled.

"Isn't that what I just said? Need I constantly repeat myself?"

I think he might have shrugged, but the dead weight of all the suitcases prohibited the movement, and then he just let go of the cases and watched as they all crashed to the floor in an astounding helter-skelter manner.

One of them landed on my toe- the one part of my body that had not recently been damaged- and it was everything I could do not to overreact.

Another landed on Frances's toe and she was a little less gracious about it. "You blasted fool! Honestly, you don't have the sense God gave a turnip! You can't bounce the luggage about willy-nilly like that! Look at what you've done to my toe!"

We all looked at the offended appendage as she stuck a sock and sandal clad foot out from under her multi-colored floor length skirt.

This woman had some serious fashion issues. Knowing who her sister was, I wondered how that could possibly have happened. I've been on breaking and entering missions with Pia where she still insisted upon wearing stiletto heels. (By the way, that whole B&E thing, that's a long story that isn't as illegal as it sounds. Okay, maybe it is, but everything came out all right in the end, so that's all that matters. The ends justify the means and all that.)

"Frances," I could see Pia was gearing up for another one of her steamroller lectures, the type in which Pia always came out the winner. Pia could talk Donald Trump into giving away his entire fortune to the homeless, if she put her heart into it. "There is simply no way that I can accommodate you at this time, and honestly, you ought to have called me or at the very least sent me an e-mail letting me know that you were coming. How could you think I could possibly be prepared at the last minute like this?"

Frances crossed her arms over her chest in a firm manner. "Prissy, we have spent every Fourth with you since time and memoriam, why on earth would this year be any different? And besides, Freddie's and my thirtieth anniversary is only a few weeks away and you promised to throw us the party!"

Pia frowned, "Is it already the Fourth?"

"It's only five days away," Frances reminded Pia.

It took me a minute to understand that they were talking about Independence Day, which was in fact right around the corner.

And then as I looked around, 'right around the corner,' stretched into an endless eternity.

The rest of the gang had finally made it inside and we were packed into the foyer like a pound of sardines in a half-pound can, while the eleven-year-old swung his foot a little less than innocently and connected pretty solidly with his middle brother's leg.

Four times that I noticed.

Meanwhile the two-year-old was wiping the remnants of whatever it was that was coming out of his nose onto the wallpaper. Let's hope green and purple don't clash too much, because nearly everything in Pia's house is purple, and judging by the abundance of the mucus which was emanating from the baby's nose, it would soon be coated with green as well. The thought of spending the next five days (let alone- how many weeks did she say 'til her anniversary?) with these people made me cringe.

I ignored the banter still going on between Pia and her sister, while I considered my options. After all, I was merely a guest in this house since in all reality I lived in the guest house. I had begun renting it right after my move here, mostly because Pia was willing to forego the normal ( _extravagant_ ) rent every other place in the Hamptons charges.

Then Pia had gotten a bee in her bonnet and decided to renovate the guest house, moving me temporarily into the main house during the 'active' construction phase- in other words, the digging and knocking down of walls. It didn't take much evaluation on my part to realize that I'd much rather live in a home with a gaping hole in the side, than stay here with Pia's family. Okay, so maybe there _was_ a giant pit dug just outside the second bedroom of the guest house. And I have to admit it _was_ the site of a recent murder. And, all right, it _had_ led to the discovery of two more human skeletons. And yes, the police were _still_ busy exhuming then. Still, given the choice between Pia's family and a pit filled with dead bodies, I'd go pit any day. Besides, how much racket could the cops possibly make exhuming the last of the bones?

I was willing to find out.

I tuned in just in time to hear Frances saying, "-thought that the kids could stay in the main house while Freddie and I stayed in the guest house, for privacy you know. After all, we _are_ celebrating our anniversary."

I actually made a gagging noise. It wasn't a little one either.

Just then my mother and Gloria joined us, with Alex hot on their heels.

"What's going on here?" my mother asked. "I was beginning to wonder if something had happened to the two of you- Sigreid? Are you choking? But now I can see that you have company."

"Oh, God! Freakish Frannie and the wonder twins! Kill me now!" Gloria shrieked. "Oh, wait! I'm already dead!"

Oh, did I mention Gloria and Alex were ghosts?

Okay, so, long story short, when I first moved here there was this whole scandal at the art gallery and it didn't take long for me to find myself smack dab in the middle of it. Anyway, amongst other things, I got whacked on the head by a very heavy marble sculpture. Since that day I've been able to see and speak to ghosts. As it turns out, there are quite a few of them hanging out in the Hamptons.

"Why does this house suddenly feel too full?" Alex asked no one in particular, which was fine, since aside from Gloria and me, no one else could hear him anyway.

Pia sighed and then began making introductions. "Frances, this is one of my employees," I wiggled my fingers at her in a semi-wave, "Reid Larson and her mother Judy. Ladies, this is my sister Frances, her husband Freddie, her daughter Frida, and their youngest son Freddie Jr."

Freddie smiled at us a bit wearily while Junior cast us a sullen look. Frida's expression never changed from one of discomfort. It almost looked as if she might be constipated, which, judging by her immense size, (though not nearly as big as one of Pia's closest friends, Olivia) was entirely possible.

Pia sighed again. "I'm sorry, dear, but I still have trouble with the boys' names."

I thought it might be at least a little bit rude that Pia didn't know her great-nephews' names, but only until Frida began to speak. "The oldest is Phoenyx, that's with a 'y' not an 'i,' and then the middle is Physhyr- spelled p-h-y-s-h-y-r, and then the last is Phrytz- p-h-r-y-t-z."

"Way to save money on those vowels. Pat Sajak would be so proud," Gloria intoned from where she was bobbing along the ceiling.

I didn't know which was odder, the fact that Frida had given them such bizarre names with an even more bizarre twist on the spellings, or the fact that she felt the need to point it out. I've never met a person and introduced myself by saying, "Hi, I'm Reid. That's r-e-i-d." Weird.

"Right, thanks," Pia said.

"Well, isn't it nice to meet you all," my mother smiled, ever the gracious hostess, even in someone else's home. "Shouldn't we invite them to sit down, Pia?" she prodded. "If you'll all come into the kitchen, Pia has some tea prepared and I think we can find some milk for the boys and maybe some cookies-"

"Hulk HUN-gry!" the middle child- Physhyr- suddenly grunted. "Hulk want COO-kies!"

My mother took him by the hand, "Well, if the Hulk can find his manners, then I'm certain the Hulk can have some cookies."

"Hulk want cookies NOW, or Hulk SMASH!" I heard him saying even as he followed my mother down the hall.

I couldn't help but think it might be pretty interesting to see how my mother handled the little demon- er- dear, so I followed after them.

I put on the breaks when I heard the discussion behind me returning back to the subject of the guest house.

"Freddie, why don't you take our bags down to the guest house and then you can take the children's up to their rooms?" Frances was saying. "You did get everything out of the car, didn't you, dear?"

I'm not sure who was paler. Me, at the prospect of losing my private home and possibly having to burn my bed when I finally returned to it, or Freddie, who no doubt wilted at the prospect of lifting all that heavy luggage again- which by the way- what was wrong with Junior? He looked pretty darn capable to me.

"Frances!" Pia's sharp voice stilled Freddie's movement even as he was lifting the last of the bags, "I've been trying to tell you! You can't possibly use the guest house, as I've rented it out. Someone else is already living there."

"What? _Who_?"

"If you must know, I've rented it to Reid."

"Your _employee_?" Frances frowned at this. "You rented an entire house to an _employee_?"

"Yes, I have." Pia's voice could not have been colder.

"You may as well have rented it out to the maid!" Frances scoffed. "Still- and it's an inconvenience to be sure, since it certainly won't afford us the privacy we were looking forward to- but still, the guest house does have two rooms, so we'll just have to stay in the other one."

Pia shook her head, "I'm afraid that's quite impossible. I'm in the middle of remodeling the second bedroom, building an artist's studio actually, and you can't possibly stay there."

"Well, why on earth not?" Frances was starting to get angry.

"For starters, the first misstep might have you plunging into a giant pit dug just outside the removed wall," Pia's sarcasm was hard to miss.

"Go get 'em, sister!" Gloria crowed. Of course no one could hear her but me.

"Well, that puts a damper on things, doesn't it?" Frances asked no one in particular.

"Frannie," Freddie was starting to groan under all the weight. "Can you please just decide something. My back is breaking."

"That's why I suggested a hotel," Pia reminded her.

Frances shook her head. "No. We can't possibly do that. We can't afford rooms for all of us, and besides, that would mean renting a car in order to travel back and forth, and that's just more wasted expense."

"How did you get here if you don't have a car?"

"Taxi. Now, there's nothing for it, we'll just all have to stay in the main house. How many rooms have you got?"

"Seven outside of mine and Bernard's," Pia spoke reluctantly.

"That will be just fine. Freddie and I will take one, Frida can have another, Freddie Jr. can finally have a room to himself, and the boys will need another two and you'll still have two left over. There, see? Brilliant! Just brilliant!"

_Brilliant_.

Chapter Two

By the time Freddie got the luggage moved into the proper rooms (without any type of apoplectic fit, I might add), Pia and I had managed to move all of my belonging back to the guest house- for which I was greatly relieved. Alex was thrilled at my return since he didn't like to hang out much in the main house. He said all that purple gave him a headache. And more recently he had been pretty scarce, due mostly to his own lies and his having been embroiled in a long ago love/scandal/murder triangle. Actually, since it had involved four people, I'm guessing it had been more of a quadrangle, but that's beside the point. The point is, my resident ghost had been very lonely, and was now celebrating my return by following me around like a puppy dog.

Against my will I returned to the main house (only at Pia's request- the things I will do for that woman!) and found everyone sitting around the bar as well as the table in the kitchen. Gloria was perched on one of the countertops and Alex joined her.

My mother I could see had the Hulk well in hand and he was happily stuffing his face with cookies and slurping down his milk. His baby brother sat beside him, my mother had turned one of Pia's kitchen towels into a bib, and judging by the mess that was down the front of it, it had been a good decision. Even now half the cookie he was eating was falling down his face as much as into it. Looking at the sight I couldn't help but wonder if I ever wanted to have children.

The eldest boy- Phoenyx was it?- sat in a sullen silence that matched his uncle's. Junior was neither partaking of the food, nor the drink, offered him.

Frida on the other hand, held no such qualms and was happily munching on a large pile of cookies she had placed before her. "I don't know what it is with this pregnancy," she was saying through a mouth full of cookie crumbs, "but I just can't seem to get enough to eat!"

So that explained her girth.

_Well, maybe not all of it,_ I couldn't help but think when I looked at her massive arms wobbling as she reached for yet another cookie.

"I keep telling you, it's a girl. When I was pregnant with you, I was always hungry," Frances advised, while munching her way through her own sizeable stockade of baked goods. The two of them could easily eat the Keebler elves right out of business.

"Reid," my mother greeted me. "Can I get you some tea? Or any cookies?"

I doubted there were any cookies left this side of the Mason-Dixon Line, but I wasn't about to say anything. "No, thanks. I'm good."

Frances didn't pay any mind to me as she continued her previous conversation, "Let's just hope you hold onto little Phoebe until _after_ the anniversary party."

"Ma, I keep telling you, her name is _not_ Phoebe!"

"Whatever you decide, dear."

How far along was Frida exactly that her mother would be concerned about the child being born prior to the party?

Thankfully, my mother had the guts to ask the question I was too terrified to discover the answer to. "So, when are you due, dear?"

"I've only got about a month to go," she mumbled, spraying cookie crumbs across the table.

Dear, God! How long were these people planning on being here?

"But this being her fourth, we have to be ready for anything," Frances reminded the room in general. "Later children often do come earlier. That's why I'm concerned little Phoebe (her daughter interrupted with a growl, but Frances ignored her and went on) will try to make an appearance before the party. Or, God forbid, during." I half expected her to cross herself on that statement. I know I wanted to.

"When is your anniversary, Frances?" my mother asked. Ever the brave soul.

"Oh, it's just a few weeks off. The eighteenth actually, but as it's a week day I thought we should have the party the weekend following."

"Or before," I chimed in, only slightly echoing Pia's same sentiment.

Frances frowned, "Are you in such a hurry to be rid of your baby sister, Prissy?"

_Baby_ sister? _Baby_ sister?

Never in a million years would I have guessed Frances was younger than Pia. True, Pia had Botox and other surgical methods to rely on, and Frances' heavy make-up hid a good portion of her face. But as I stared hard at the skin beneath the emerald green eye-shadow that ran all the way up to Frances' heavily painted eyebrows, I saw a lot more wrinkles and crow's feet than I'd even seen on Pia. And that bright orange lipstick was already flowing out of a million and one tiny fissures stemming from her lips.

Gloria must have seen the look on my face, because she said, "It's true, sweetie. Remember what I told you, Pia is sixty-three. She may not look it, but she's almost nine years older than her sister."

Nine years, that put Frances at fifty-five. So while Frances did in fact look every bit of her age, Pia did not. Pia looked as if she were in her upper forties, early fifties at most. And she made everybody believe it too.

"I'm not in a hurry to get rid of you," Pia was now saying to Frances. "I'm just saying let's look at the calendar and see what's more convenient, that's all."

"Whatever. As long as it's not too soon. Christian may not be available until the end of the month, as he's currently on a tour."

Christian? Who's Christian?

"Ahhhh, Christian," Gloria sighed as if in ecstasy. "He's the only thing that makes it all worthwhile."

Alex just frowned at her.

Unaware of Gloria's panting, Pia took the time to explain, "Christian is Frances' eldest son, from a previous relationship. He lives in London. He's some kind of rock star I believe."

"He thinks he is anyway," Junior finally broke his brooding silence.

"Yeah, to hear him tell it, he's the next best thing since the Beatles," Frida grumped before snatching one of her mother's cookies. She had run out of her own.

My mind was awhirl. "You're not talking about Christian Carter - are you? As in, lead singer of the Strange Infusion? _That_ Christian Carter?"

"That's the one, sweetie," Gloria sighed again. "The one and only." She followed that up with a very disturbing, growly-purr kind of thing.

"You know my son?" Frances asked, turning her attention to me for the first time.

"Well, yeah." I was astonished that they were all so surprised. "I used to listen to a lot of indie bands and alternative rock when I was in college. I loved his first album and I played it nearly all the time. His second one was pretty good too, but the first was my favorite. I thought everyone had heard of Strange Infusion?"

"Apparently not everyone, dear," my mother pointed out.

"Apparently not," I muttered.

"Anyway, he's currently on some kind of tour, so he may not be here for another week or more. I can't possibly schedule the party until I know when he'll be here."

"Along with the paparazzi," Gloria added. "You do realize that the idea of throwing their anniversary party here is ludicrous? They live in Alabama, or some other such godforsaken place, why would they have a party here I ask you? They have no friends here. It'll be the smallest party known to mankind."

I flashed her a look that said, "Get to the point."

"My point is, the only people Pia could invite would be her own friends. Not exactly what one would want at their thirtieth anniversary party, is it? _Someone else's_ friends. But, Freaky Frannie wants to bask in some of the glory of her son's newfound success. A son she deserted when he was only two, by the way. I think she's been to London maybe a handful of times to see him in his whole life, and he's only made the trek to the States to see her a few times. In fact, I think it's a pretty safe bet that he's been here to visit his aunt more than he ever has to visit his mother. He used to come here summers when he was younger and just starting out. Pia let him use the guesthouse. He said that's where he did all his best writing."

I barely heard the last of what Gloria was saying, because already Frances was talking again. "That's why it's imperative that we have the party here. Christian has a standard to maintain and currently our home is under a bit of construction-"

Junior snorted and his mother shot him a silencing glare.

"As I was saying, we're having a remodel and it's too small to accommodate everyone anyway. This seemed the perfect option. Besides, Prissy, you did promise."

It was evident Pia couldn't recall having ever made any such promise, but regardless, she said, "Well, of course we can have your party here. It'll be nice to see Christian again, it's been so long."

I couldn't help but notice that she didn't add how nice it was to see any of the rest of them.

"Hulk done! Hulk PLAY now!"

My mother scurried to catch the four-year-old's chair before he tipped out of it in his eagerness to remove himself from the table. "Hulk needs to wash up first," she admonished. "And then I think we need to be talking about bedtime."

"NOOOOO!" The last time I'd heard a scream that loud had been only a few hours earlier and it had been coming from a banshee who had been trying to destroy the living room and the old man in it. The old man had died of a heart attack and the banshee had gone on to better places (one hoped). But obviously, little Physhyr was more than happy to take her place.

"My word!" Pia exclaimed.

"That one's got a temper," Frances idly informed her.

"Dear God, someone make him stop!" his own mother complained. "I can't deal with him, I've got indigestion."

No kidding? After the thirty-seven cookies you just downed, I'm surprised you've got a stomach!

"I keep telling you, it's a girl," her mother crowed. "Girls always bring indigestion."

I could see how Frances thought that. Both she and her daughter were starting to give me a little.

Meanwhile, my mother, having never met a four-year-old that she couldn't take, took the Hulk by the hand and led him to the sink to wash up, all the while talking to him quietly.

Now let me just say, quietly from my mother should not be confused with sweetly. I have seen her give very sincere death threats in a very serene manner. Whatever she said to the little demon, it worked, because he followed her quite docilely from the kitchen, and she only paused to scoop up the baby on her way.

Pia watched them go wistfully. "I wonder how long she's planning on staying?"

*****

About the Author:

T. L. Ingham was born and raised in upstate New York, before living short stints in Connecticut, Rhode Island, Illinois, and then finally, Indiana where she lives today, residing with her husband and their two dogs. She is the author of the blog Did This Really Just Happen? and co-author of Snark-o-locity.

Discover other titles by T. L. Ingham at Smashwords.com:

Living and Dying in the Hamptons

The Dradon Project

The View from the Top

Gilda's Locket

Losing Myself But Not Entirely

Connect with Me Online:

<http://tlingham.webs.com/> and <http://www.facebook.com/tl.ingham.1>

http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/TLIngham

