Adelaide Confused (15 page)

I flipped over a piece of
junk mail and nearly jumped out of my chair when the ghost went
wild. His shape began to shake and twitch, like a cloak being blown
in the wind. His emotions were all over the place. I didn’t bother
trying to sift through, I knew enough. He had a sense of urgency
about him. He wanted to show me something.

His shadow came to linger
over my desk, boiling and churning. I waved my hand through him the
way a nonsmoker tries to beat back a cigarette’s waft. “Calm down,
you’re making me feel crazy.” He moved aside, allowing me to pick
up the local ad. “This?” I asked, and his emotions confirmed it. It
was an ad for Singh’s Dry Cleaning. “What do a ghost and a dry
cleaner have in common?” I wasn’t smart enough to deliver the punch
line.

Francesca’s doubts became
my own. Had I misinterpreted Lucas’ motive, taking charity for
interest? Maybe I’d been too forward. Lucas probably thought I was
too forward. Shit... I’d just have to kill myself.

My thoughts continued to
move in nonsensical circles. I became aware that I was obsessing
like Francesca, except I didn’t have some charming superpower to
conveniently blame it on. Perhaps I was just compensating for all
those teenage years I’d missed. I was beginning to understand the
term
teen angst
, it was wonderfully terrible.

I was still adult enough to
be properly ashamed of my crush, though it didn’t make much of a
difference. I continued reliving every word he spoke, searching for
a hidden meaning. Such as his brusque goodbyes, which obviously
meant he didn’t want me to know just how much he’d miss
me.

By the time morning rolled
around I’d come full circle, deciding it was time to end my
foolishness. It was simple really. I needed to ascertain his
feelings, and for that I needed to be a bit more
forward.

Lucas answered the door
wearing grease stained jeans and a raggedy brown T-shirt. He pushed
the door open, stepping back to usher me inside. I almost flaked,
but I knew I had to do this before I was all gross and sweaty from
cleaning.

With my heart drumming
furiously inside my chest, I stepped inside the house... and kissed
Lucas. He was so tall I had to lean upward, missing his mouth at
first and then abruptly clicking our teeth together. I had little
experience, but even so I knew the whole thing was a mess. I pulled
away, turning to avoid his gaze.

I swear five minutes must
have passed while neither one of us moved nor spoke.

Finally I cleared my
throat. “You should probably move into a different room while I
clean.” I began to organize my supplies, unloading them onto the
counter.

“
Why?” he asked.

I purposely misunderstood. “Because you’ll be
in the way.”

“
You kissed me.”

“NO,” and then less defensively, “I
tripped.”

I heard the back door close
and prayed he was leaving the kitchen. The whisper of his bare feet
padding across the linoleum made my stomach feel queasy. The sound
disappeared down the hallway. He’d gone.

I’d never cleaned anything
so fast in my entire life. In less than an hour I was driving a mop
across the floor, finishing the home stretch. I gathered my
supplies and bolted for the door, nearly sprinting for the
fence.

Shit... I’d just have to
kill myself.

I was a bit hostile at
work, growling my way through the day shift. Stephen and Ben
steered clear, but the customers weren’t smart enough to follow
suit.

A woman of late years, not
quite old but past the middle age mark, came in needing a room. I
tried to go through the check-in process quiet but civil. She made
it difficult.

Her hair, that strange
combination of light brown and gray, was worn in a tight bun at the
nape of her neck. Her clothes were conservative, and maybe a bit
prim. Prim if you considered a turtleneck worn in the Georgia heat
prim. I did. But all and all I thought she would act like she
looked—a school teacher. If only.

Her entrance was strange,
setting off red flags and warning bells. She strode in, a large
purse hanging from the crook of her elbow, and stopped at the
counter to stare at me in silence.

I waited for her to speak,
but all she did was look at me from head to toe, memorizing my
outline. Her feelings were edged with a cruel detachment that
worried me. Finally I said, “Can I help you?”

As if the spell was broken
she looked away, taking in the office decor. “Unfortunately you
can,” she muttered. Turning her attention back to me, she said more
loudly, “I need a room.”

“Just one night?”

“
Three nights.” She began
to click her nails on the countertop, a passive-aggressive pace. “I
assume the rooms are cleaned daily?”

I nodded.

“
Thank god for small
miracles,” she mumbled to herself.

“
There’s no need to thank
anyone. Cleaning the rooms daily is a standard practice for even
motels.” I slid a paper across the counter. “Sign
there.”

She scribbled her signature
with a furious flourish. “I doubt management would be pleased to
hear of your attitude.”

I handed her the key. “The
owner’s outside under the big oak, feel free to make your
complaints.”

“I think I will.” She grabbed her receipt,
took up her bag, and left, striding through the door just as stiff
and bitchy as she’d entered it.

I sincerely hoped she would
speak with Ben. He’d tell her where to shove it.

A few hours later Arnie
pushed through the door, Renee skipping in on his arm. They used to
be subtle, meeting at the room. But now there wasn’t anyone left to
care because everyone already knew.

They nuzzled at each other,
Renee giggling while I inwardly gagged. I slid the room key across
the counter hoping Renee would take it. She did, giving Arnie a
flirtatious smile filled with silent promise before flouncing off
to prepare for their tryst. Thank goodness she’d gone. I would have
done anything to separate them. Their emotions were
wonky.

Arnie scowled. “Why you
always gotta be such a bitch about things, Adelaide?”

“
What? You’re mad I gave
her the room key?”

“No, it’s not the key.” He struggled to
figure out what was wrong with me. “You could be nicer’s all.”

“So you’re saying it wasn’t nice of me to
offer Renee the room key?”

“
No, it’s not the key!” He
threw up his arms in frustration. “You’re doing in now, being...
difficult. You’re always difficult!”

I ignored him. “Sign
there.” Scrawling like a second-grader, I watched him finish his
chicken-scratch signature. “Be out on time or I’m charging you for
a second night. No more warnings.” I flicked the receipt at
him.

His hairy knuckles snatched
it up. “You know, Adelaide,” he said, lifting the receipt to get my
attention. “Maybe you wouldn’t be so uptight if you got laid once
in a while.”

Reed Wallace chose that
moment to turn up, stepping inside the office just in time to hear
Arnie’s parting shot.

I hated to let Arnie have
the last word, but it felt wrong to shout an insult at his
back.

“
An adoring fan?” Reed
asked in that judgy, sarcastic voice only the rich could
carry.

My ire found a new target. “What do you
want?” I snarled.

“
I’d assumed it was the
stressful circumstances that made you testy—”

“It wasn’t.”

“—
when we parted. So I’ll
disregard your hasty comments.”

“I meant the part about not speaking to me
again.”

He made his way to the
counter, strolling slowly. I hardly noticed how good-looking he
was—progress. “Impossible that. You see, you haven’t finished the
job I hired you for.”

“Blackmailed,” I corrected. “And I went to
your stupid party.”

“
Stupid? You seemed to
enjoy the food well enough.”

I turned the conversation, charting the
course I was interested in. “What did you ever do about that guy
that tried to kill me?”

“I’ve taken care of it.”

“So you killed him then?” I asked
hopefully.

He was honestly surprised
by the suggestion. “Of course not!” He looked at me askance.
“You’re a blood thirsty one, aren’t you?”

“No. I don’t want him to die. I’d just feel
better if he was dead.”

“
Why are you worrying? I
said I took care of it.” He twirled a pen and waited for me to
answer. He found me curiouser and curiouser, or
whatever.

“
I don’t trust you, so your
word means nothing to me. And why should I help you? You almost got
me killed!”

“
You’re going to help me
because I’m blackmailing you. Any payment you receive is just an
act of goodwill, an exercise in building trust. And don’t be
dramatic. It was torture, not death.” He smiled, feeling
playful.

I was not. “You can’t buy
trust, and you can’t blackmail me into helping you either. That man
would have killed me. I’m totally clueless and in way over my head.
I’d rather confront my family at this point than get any more
tangled in your web of... whatever it is that you’re
into.”

He was frustrated, or maybe it was me.

Reed took a step back as if
accepting defeat. “If I tell you what’s going on will you
acquiesce?”

“
I don’t know about that.
But maybe I’ll help you. Maybe.”

He gestured at the space
around him. “This isn’t the place for such a conversation. Come to
my home when your shift ends tomorrow.”

I didn’t mean to, but I
made a face. “Can’t we meet somewhere neutral? Like
McDonalds?”

He was offended. “I can
assure you that I’ll be the perfect host. And there is someone I’d
like you to meet.”

“Fine.”

He handed me a Wallace
Enterprise business card, his home address penned on the back. Reed
had known all along how the conversation would end. The thought
made my teeth grind.

I pulled my Chevette up to
the curb and stared at Singh’s Dry Cleaning. It was a dinky white
box with big glass windows. I must have driven past it a thousand
times and never noticed. The place was closed, though the neon
lighting and the abundance of streetlamps had the place
glowing.

It was the perfect spot for
loitering, and that was exactly what the group of three out front
was doing. They’d watched me pull up. I wasn’t really surprised. I
knew it wasn’t my stunning good looks that had their attention, but
my car.

The Chevette made funny
noises while it was running, and sometimes when it was not. The
passenger door was a vibrant lime color, the back panels hunter
green, and the rest was done in a startling shade of turquoise. Did
I mention it was from the eighties? Oh, and I mustn’t forget that
the hood and trunk were held shut by hooked bungee cords. The car
had cost less than my perfume bottle collection.

The punks out front shifted from foot to
foot, waiting to see what I’d do. I turned to the ghost in my
passenger seat, waiting to see what he’d do.

I’d tracked him down
earlier. He’d been drifting around the cleaning cart like a gloomy
smog. But he’d cheered considerably when I told him to meet me
later, admitting that I would be sleuthing on his behalf. So there
I was, parked at Singh’s with no idea why.

The ghost wafted apart,
rising to the roof and drifting through it. I watched as he swirled
across the road like a puff of car exhaust, disappearing into the
dark. I cursed a seamless stream of obscenities as I hauled myself
out of the bucket seat. Damn ghost had gone the wrong
way.

The loitering group of
misfits slunk in close while I was preoccupied. I recognized the
thrill. I always felt it before talking to Lucas, so I knew what
was coming even before the little weasel thought up his idea of a
sexy line.

The skinny one said,
“Pretty girl like you shouldn’t be out in the dark. There’s a
murderer on the loose, didn’t you hear?”

I eyed the entourage in
disapproval. When I was a teen, groups like this had something that
bound them together, a hobby, like skateboarding or Hacky sack. The
only thing this bunch had in common was baggy clothes they used to
mask their lack of masculinity.

“
Yeah, I know
him.”

They guffawed, thinking I’d
made a great joke.

“You’re funny Red,” said skinny.

“
Friends with a murderer?
You don’t look like the stabbing type,” the tallest one pointed
out.

I stuffed my hand into my
purse, lifting it so it was poised horizontally at arm’s-length.
“You’re right. I’m more into guns than knives. Do you know why they
always cover the muzzle with a pillow in the movies?” I asked with
inapt steadiness. Their laughter died off. They wanted to assume I
was joking, but their smiles were forced, betraying their
discomfort. “It muffles the sound.” They shared uneasy glances.
“What’s across the street?” I asked them, waving my hairbrush in
that direction.