Broke: (10 page)

"How do you know Vance?" asked Immy.

His little toad head swiveled between them
, then
he decided to answer Ralph. Immy didn't blame him. Ralph looked kinda fearsome at the moment.

"Vance told me I should inspect
the
antique
furniture in this house. For our business."

"You're Vance's partner," said Immy, finally putting it together. "Did he give you a key?"

"Well, yes," the man said.

"What's your name?" asked Ralph.

"Quentin."

"That's his name," said Immy.

"He says it is," said Ralph to her. "How do you know he's telling the truth?"

"Vance told me he had a business partner named Quentin, and that he'd like to see the furniture." Immy addressed Quentin. "The furniture is
not
for sale. I'll thank you to leave my house."

Quentin
's head
still
jerked
from Ralph to Immy, back and forth
, licking his lips
. Immy pictured a fly buzzing by and his tongue darting out.

"Now," said Ralph.

Quentin scurried out, giving them
a
wide berth.

Chapter
Eleven

On Sunday Ralph, true to his word, finished the gate for the backyard fence and they installed Marshmallow in his new yard.
Ralph had put together a temporary ramp so the pig could
get
up and down
from the kitchen door to the ground.

"I'll get something more stable put together next weekend," he said, eyeing the wide plank that lay on the steps. "This should last till then. Call me if it breaks."

Marshmallow, having reached the
back
porch in his explorations, trotted up the ramp as if he'd been using a bare plank his whole life. The porch was wide enough for furniture and a swing if Immy had had those. Marshmallow
sniffed the length of the porch, then
turned around and trotted
down
to the yard.

The wood bowed a bit, but if Marshmallow didn't gain twenty-five pounds
before next weekend
, Immy thought it would hold.

"Good, it's not too
s
lick for his hooves," said Ralph. "If it rains,
it might get slippery. M
aybe you should
cover it with
something."

"One of those old
drop cloths
," said Immy.

Ralph inspected his gate and gave it a squirt of WD-40, then waved and left.

Immy and Drew spent the rest of the day cleaning and putting their things away. This involved a lot of trips to the attic to store the
ancient stuff
that
had been left
by old Mrs. Tompkins
and
were in the
ir
way
. They were both ready for bedtime much earlier than usual.

After Drew helped Immy scrub the
large
claw foot
bathtub to within an inch of its ancient life,
even though it wasn't the one Lyle had died in,
they got in together and had a long soak.

"Is Marshmallow gonna use this tub?" Drew asked, trying to imitate the way Immy squirted water
up
from her fist.

"No, silly. We'll use the hose outside like we always do." She sprayed water at Drew's neck and they both giggled.

"Well, is he gonna sweep wif me?"

Immy had to ponder that one. At the single wide,
he had slept beside Drew.
But how would Marshmallow get up the stairs to the bedrooms?
He was too big to carry upstairs.

"We can make Marshmallow a nice bed downstairs," said Immy.

Drew's defiant scowl should have prepared
Immy
for the storm to come. When
she
insisted Drew go to sleep on her cot in her new room, Drew howled like she was being tortured. Immy glanced at the windows that needed caulking and hoped that the neighbors
wouldn't
suspect her of child abuse.

Immy finally gave in
. Drew's cot was easy enough to carry down the staircase. Immy put it next to the couch. Drew curled up on it happily, Marshmallow on the floor beside her within stroking distance. Within minutes they were both asleep.

But Immy paced the kitchen, trying to figure out what a good parent would do. Probably not leave her child to sleep alone in a strange house for the first time with no one
n
ear. Especially since Immy
had no idea
who would be invading next.

Reluctantly, Immy hauled her pillow and some bedclothes to the
stiff, hard couch. Surprisingly,
she
fell asleep within seconds too. She'd worked hard that day.

***

At first, Immy didn't know where she was. A streetlight shone through a window that was
, surely,
in the wrong place
. She blinked
, then
remembered she was in her house. Her own house!
S
pending her first night on the couch. But what had awakened her? She pushed the button on her cell phone and checked the time
in its glow
. Two-twenty-two. She glanced at the cot.

Drew! Drew wasn't there!

Immy shot up, then heard
a
voice.

"I can tell my Mommy," Drew said, not whispering, but
speaking
softly
, as if to someone next to her
. "She can help you."

Help you?
Immy was damned if she was going to help any more housebreakers. Marshmallow was missing, too. Maybe he was protecting Drew. Immy, glad she'd worn a heavy nightgown, tiptoed toward Drew's voice. She
found her in
the kitchen.
Immy
paused in the doorway to see who
else
was there.

The lights were out, but enough moonlight
streamed
through the large windows to
clearly
s
how her
that Drew and Marshmallow were alon
e
in the
large room. Who was Drew talking to? Was she sleepwalking? She never had before.

"But maybe she can," Drew insisted. "My Mommy can do lots of things."

Was someone hiding somewhere?
Or was she talking to that damn Hoo
ty
?

"A'wight.
Later alligator
."

Then Immy
thought she
saw a
faint
shimmer, just inside the back door. Its glow pulsated twice, giving it an indistinct but vaguely human shape. Immy blinked and shook her head. When she opened her eyes the apparition was gone. She must have imagined it.
She was so weary.

Drew turned and
ran
toward Immy.

"Hi Mommy."

"Drew, what are you doing out of bed in the middle of the night?"

"
Marshmallow woke me up cuz t
he nice lady wanted to talk to me."

"Um, what nice lady?"
Hoo
ty
, as near as Immy could ever figure, was not a lady, but a small boy,
about
Drew's age.

"The one that lives here."

"I didn't see anyone, Drew. Are you sure you didn't dream about that?"

"
Marshmallow seed her, too. The lady
said she's glad we're here. There's somebody she doesn't want
to come
here, but she
didn't
tell me who."

Immy peered into the gloom of the kitchen again. Nothing. No one.

"Drew, you need to go back to sleep.
You were
only
talking to Marshmallow.
"

"But I told her you would help keep the bad mans out."

"Yes, sugar, I'll keep the bad mans out.
All of them." If I can. "
Now
,
you go to sleep."

Just great. She was supposed to be getting rid of the ghost, not helping it.

In the morning, Immy wondered if she'd dreamt the whole thing.
The vision she'd had was an indistinct blur in her mind, fading with every second
she was awake
.

***

On Monday, as soon as she got to work after dropping Drew at school, Immy searched online for a locksmith. Most of them had official sounding names: Wymee Lock and Key, Premier Lock Shop, things like that. One caught her eye, though--Linda's Locks. Her online logo was a swirly purple key with an ornate design.

"We need keys, kiddo?"
H
er boss had come up behind her. Mike Mallett was quiet as a fox sometimes. Immy thought his narrow face was sort of foxlike, too.

"I've had too many people breaking into my house," said Immy.

"One would be too many for me."

"Well, one was my uncle.
I can't count him.
Anyway, I need to get the locks changed."

"And you need to send bills out. D'ya think you could do that first? Since that's what I'm paying you for?"

"I know. I will. Right now." She brought up the invoicing screen and started
clicking on her keyboard,
typing into the boxes.

"You know, about that house. Are you sure you wanna live there? I drove past
it
the other day and, I gotta tell ya, it's kinda falling apart."

"Ralph is fixing it up. He's doing a good job."

"I don't see anything different."

"There's a lot to do."

"That's what I'm sayin'."

"He'll get around to the front eventually."

Mike
returned
to his office
,
shaking his head.

She
felt compelled
to do billing until Mike left for a ten o'clock appointment
. T
hen she called Linda
's Locks
and said she'd meet
Linda
at the house right after work. She didn't dare leave early
with Mike hovering
over her intermittently
all afternoon
.

***

Linda pulled up in a small purple pic
kup,
parking
behind Immy.
She stood looking at the house for a moment. Linda
was probably
in her fifties, short and plump, with a halo of frizzy brown hair. She was dressed, practically, in worn overalls.

"I thought that's what this address was," she said. "The old Tompkins place.
Doesn't
Geoff own it now
?
"

She extended a hand and Immy shook it, feeling her
rough
calluses. Linda's hands were large for such a small woman.

"He does," Immy said. "I'm renting
here
." She got Drew out of her car seat and the child ran to the
front door
.

"Wanna see Marshmallow!"

"Is it
okay
with
Geoff
to change the locks?"
asked Linda.

"
Uh, yeah
." If he knew about everybody breaking in, she thought he would approve. "I've had some problems with intruders."

"Intruders with keys?"

"I'm not sure."

They had walked to the front door as they talked, Linda swinging a tool box alongside. "What you probably need are deadbolts."

Immy let Drew in with her key. She heard her
daughter barreling through the rooms
looking for her pet.

"Your daughter really likes marshmallows, does she?"

Immy laughed. "That's the name of her pet potbelly pig."

"One of my cousins had one of those. They're kinda cute."

Immy thought she was wrong. They were terribly cute.
"I think you're right
about the deadbolt lock
." Deadbolts sounded sturdy and reliable. "They don't take keys, right?"

"You can get them with or without."

"Without," Immy said.
It
sounded less complicated.

"That'll only keep people out when you're there. You can't lock them when you leave."

A high squeal announced that Drew had been united with Marshmallow.

"Well, all right. I'd better get the kind with keys." People were coming in whether she was there or not, it seemed.

Immy let
Drew and
Marshmallow
out the back door while Linda worked on the front one. The pig ran to the corner of the yard and started digging
and Immy sat on the ramp and watched
.
The drone of Linda's drill was faint from here.

"Does Mr. Tompkins know what that animal is doing to his yard?"

Immy turned at the sound of the gravelly voice. A woman with white frizzy hair hunched over the fence. At least Immy thought it was a woman.
Immy
got up and walked to the fence. Up close, she still thought it was a woman, but the voice was a man's, and so was the long, wispy facial hair.

"Hello," Immy said. She put her hand out and introduced herself. "
I'm Immy.
What's your name?"

"Sadie McMudgeon. I don't care who you are," the old crone said
, ignoring Immy's outstretched hand
. "I think Mr. Tompkins ought to know that you're ruining his yard."

Immy stiffened and drew
herself up taller
. "There wasn't much to ruin." The lawn was mostly weeds and dirt.