Haunted Guest House Mystery 03-Old Haunts by E. J. Copperman Page A
Authors: E. J. Copperman
Tags: Supernatural Mysteries
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how cooperative she could be in the hope that it would inspire me to be the same. Good luck with that maneuver, but if I could get something out of it… “Sure, Maxie. A bottle of water sounds good. It’s hot up here.”
“Be right back,” Maxie answered, and before I got the chance to revel in her obsequiousness, she was gone.
“Okay, what’s your act?” I asked Paul, who still looked rather stern. He was apparently trying the opposite of Maxie’s tactic. That wouldn’t work, either, but it was considerably less enjoyable.
“I don’t have an act. I just…” He stopped when Maxie reappeared through the floor. She pulled two bottles of spring water out of the pockets of her cargo pants (the ghosts can change wardrobe whenever they like, so Maxie had made sure to “put on” something in which she could conceal objects easily).
“Here ya go,” she said in a voice so sprightly it sounded like she was in a commercial for floor wax. “Nice cold water. I even put on an extra show for a couple of the guests when I took them out of the fridge and flew them through the den.”
“Thank you,” I said. I looked back at Paul, expecting him to launch into his pitch for me to investigate Big Bob’s murder, but he stood (floated) there, not saying anything and looking irritated. It was odd.
“So?” I said to him. Maxie turned and looked, too. But Paul remained silent, making strange circles with his mouth that suggested he was trying to think of the right thing to say.
Finally, he turned to Maxie and said, “Can you give us a moment alone, please?”
I was a little surprised at that, but Maxie didn’t miss a beat. She stole a glance at me, seemed to decide this would ingratiate her with me, and nodded. “No problem. You know where to find me.” And she disappeared into the ceiling. Maxie sits out on the roof sometimes, and on other occasions, it’s absolutely anybody’s guess where she goes.
I put my hand on my hip and scowled at Paul. “I thought she’d never leave,” I said with a sarcastic edge.
“You weren’t getting it,” he protested. “I just wanted to have a word with you, and you kept avoiding me.”
“You know, if you want to ask me a favor, there are better ways to get on my good side than making a scene in front of the guests.” I started spreading joint compound on the seam between two pieces of wallboard.
“The first time I offered you a ring.” Sly English Canadian wit. With my ex-husband downstairs and an unpredictable Maxie trying to get me to investigate a murder, that was the last thing I needed.
“We’re not talking about me investigating what happened to Big Bob?” I asked.
“Of course not, although you really should do that for Maxie. No, I want to get back to what we were talking about before.” Paul grunted and floated over to where I stood, the better to look me in the eye. “I was trying to ask before if you would help me find someone.”
Once the seam is filled with compound, there’s a trick you can use: Get a damp (not wet!) sponge and lightly run it over the edges of compound, smoothing as you go. This will save you tons of sanding later. “Find someone?” I asked Paul. “Can’t you just send out a Ghostogram or whatever it is you do?”
“This is someone who’s still alive,” Paul said quietly.
I turned to look at him. His face, always serious, was bordering on sad. “Who are we talking about?” I asked.
“The woman I was going to marry,” Paul answered.
I actually stopped smoothing the joint compound and turned to look at Paul, but he had moved so close to me that I was immediately startled. “You were engaged?” I asked.
“Well, I was going to ask her,” he said. “Just before I took the job guarding Maxie, I bought the ring I showed you, and once the assignment was over, I was going to ask. I was carrying it around in my pocket for days. And, well, you know what happened.” Paul and Maxie had been murdered his second day on
“Be right back,” Maxie answered, and before I got the chance to revel in her obsequiousness, she was gone.
“Okay, what’s your act?” I asked Paul, who still looked rather stern. He was apparently trying the opposite of Maxie’s tactic. That wouldn’t work, either, but it was considerably less enjoyable.
“I don’t have an act. I just…” He stopped when Maxie reappeared through the floor. She pulled two bottles of spring water out of the pockets of her cargo pants (the ghosts can change wardrobe whenever they like, so Maxie had made sure to “put on” something in which she could conceal objects easily).
“Here ya go,” she said in a voice so sprightly it sounded like she was in a commercial for floor wax. “Nice cold water. I even put on an extra show for a couple of the guests when I took them out of the fridge and flew them through the den.”
“Thank you,” I said. I looked back at Paul, expecting him to launch into his pitch for me to investigate Big Bob’s murder, but he stood (floated) there, not saying anything and looking irritated. It was odd.
“So?” I said to him. Maxie turned and looked, too. But Paul remained silent, making strange circles with his mouth that suggested he was trying to think of the right thing to say.
Finally, he turned to Maxie and said, “Can you give us a moment alone, please?”
I was a little surprised at that, but Maxie didn’t miss a beat. She stole a glance at me, seemed to decide this would ingratiate her with me, and nodded. “No problem. You know where to find me.” And she disappeared into the ceiling. Maxie sits out on the roof sometimes, and on other occasions, it’s absolutely anybody’s guess where she goes.
I put my hand on my hip and scowled at Paul. “I thought she’d never leave,” I said with a sarcastic edge.
“You weren’t getting it,” he protested. “I just wanted to have a word with you, and you kept avoiding me.”
“You know, if you want to ask me a favor, there are better ways to get on my good side than making a scene in front of the guests.” I started spreading joint compound on the seam between two pieces of wallboard.
“The first time I offered you a ring.” Sly English Canadian wit. With my ex-husband downstairs and an unpredictable Maxie trying to get me to investigate a murder, that was the last thing I needed.
“We’re not talking about me investigating what happened to Big Bob?” I asked.
“Of course not, although you really should do that for Maxie. No, I want to get back to what we were talking about before.” Paul grunted and floated over to where I stood, the better to look me in the eye. “I was trying to ask before if you would help me find someone.”
Once the seam is filled with compound, there’s a trick you can use: Get a damp (not wet!) sponge and lightly run it over the edges of compound, smoothing as you go. This will save you tons of sanding later. “Find someone?” I asked Paul. “Can’t you just send out a Ghostogram or whatever it is you do?”
“This is someone who’s still alive,” Paul said quietly.
I turned to look at him. His face, always serious, was bordering on sad. “Who are we talking about?” I asked.
“The woman I was going to marry,” Paul answered.
I actually stopped smoothing the joint compound and turned to look at Paul, but he had moved so close to me that I was immediately startled. “You were engaged?” I asked.
“Well, I was going to ask her,” he said. “Just before I took the job guarding Maxie, I bought the ring I showed you, and once the assignment was over, I was going to ask. I was carrying it around in my pocket for days. And, well, you know what happened.” Paul and Maxie had been murdered his second day on
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