Gem of a Ghost: A Ghost of Granny Apples Mystery (19 page)

“I’m sure you do, Emma. You’re definitely a professional when it comes to your work.” He gave her a smug smile. “But I think you’re fibbing about this being part of a future show. I mean, in the end it might be, but for now this is a personal quest.” His smile widened. “You’re not the only one who can sense things.”

Without responding, she grabbed the handle of her bag and pulled it down the short hall, checking doors for her room number. Quinn followed. “It’s the last one on the right,” he told her. As he passed a door on the left, he rapped his knuckles on it lightly. “This one’s mine, in case you’re wondering.”

“I’m not wondering anything of the sort, Dr. Keenan.”

“Aw, come on, loosen up and drop the Dr. Keenan bit. You can’t stay mad at me forever.”

“Try me.”

Stopping in front of the door she was seeking, Emma slipped in the key and opened it. The room was modest but comfortable-looking. Like the rest of the hotel, it was done in the Victorian style, and Emma noted that many of the furnishings looked like genuine antiques. There was a kitchenette with microwave and fridge, a small table with two chairs, a loveseat facing a large TV, and a queen-size bed. Off to the side of the bed, near the entrance to the small but cute bathroom, was a whirlpool tub. Not
knowing
how long she’d be in Jim Thorpe, she’d chosen the suite for its amenities.

She lifted her bag to the bed and went to one of the lace-
covered
widows. Pulling the curtain aside, she looked down onto Broadway.

“Good thing you took a mini suite,” Quinn told her as he followed her in. “The other rooms are generally quite small. Some, like mine, are rather tiny.”

That brought a smile to Emma’s face as she remembered her stay at the Julian Hotel. “I’ve stayed in Victorian-era hotels before. They aren’t exactly known for their spaciousness.”

Quinn walked deeper into the room. “Yeah, and I bet those Victorians just loved their whirlpools.”

In spite of her resolve to remain aloof, Emma laughed.

Encouraged, Quinn joined her at the window and looked out. “Just behind those buildings across the way is Race Street, and on Race is Moya, one of the best restaurants in town.” He looked at Emma. “Freshen up and meet me downstairs in ten minutes. You still owe me a dinner.”

She turned. His face was close to hers. She knew there were reasons why she shouldn’t go to dinner with him, but for the moment they eluded her. “I’ll need more than ten minutes.”

“No, you won’t. You’re dressed fine. This town is pretty casual. Ten minutes.”

She nodded, giving in. A nice dinner in good company sounded great, and she was as curious about him as he was about her.

He turned just as he reached the door. “Give me your car keys, and I’ll move your rental into the hotel lot while you clean up.”

With only a slight hesitation, she tossed him the keys to her rental car. If he turned out to be a crook and stole it, it was insured. Quinn was full of surprises, but her astute gut told her grand theft auto wasn’t one of his talents.

Moya was a wonderful restaurant. Emma feasted on an apple salad followed by perfectly cooked grouper with crab meat. Quinn had the yellowfin tuna entrée preceded by a goat cheese and asparagus appetizer. They also killed off a particularly fine bottle of wine.

During dinner Quinn tried to pry out of Emma what exactly she was researching in Jim Thorpe, but she’d managed to keep him at bay.

“So, tomorrow,” he said, divvying up the last of the wine between their glasses, “how about we have an early breakfast in the hotel dining room, provided you’re an early riser. Then I’ll show you around the town before you meet Betty Lou at eleven.”

“How do you know I’m meeting Betty Lou at eleven?” She sat back in her chair with mild frustration. “Oh, never mind. I’m sure you just charmed it out of her like you did my arrival.”

“My charm had nothing to do with it.” He motioned the waiter over. “Would you like coffee, Emma? Or any dessert?”

“No dessert, but coffee, please. And make it decaf. I’d better not have anything else or I’ll never get to sleep.”

“Then how about a little brandy or something else in the coffee to help you?”

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” She said it with a slight smile, in spite of herself.

“Not at all.” He winked at her. “At least not on our first date.
I was raised better than that.”

Emma sat up straight. “This is not a date, Quinn.”

“Okay, then I would never get you drunk during our first business meal. How’s that?”

“Much better.” Emma looked up at the waiter, who stood patiently by. “I’d like a little Grand Marnier in my coffee.”

After watching Emma a second, Quinn turned to the waiter. “Make that two decaf coffees with Grand Marnier.”

When the waiter left to fetch the coffee, Emma leaned slightly forward. “But you are not coming with me tomorrow.”

“Why not? I’m the perfect guide.” He leaned forward. “You see, I’m related to the McBrides, on Betty Lou’s side. That’s why she gave me the information. When they bought this place several years back, out of curiosity I did additional research on its history. I know that jail and this town inside out. Whatever you saw in your dream, with my knowledge, I might be able to help you piece it together.”

“I’ve spent the last few days reading everything I could get my hands on about this place.”

“Frankly, Emma, I wouldn’t expect anything less of you, but I know where all the bodies are buried. The stuff not in the history books.”

Emma looked around the restaurant. There were two other couples left in the place, and one of them was getting up to leave. She watched them. They were a good-looking elderly couple and reminded her of her parents. Her parents would love visiting Jim Thorpe. She made a mental note to remember to tell them about it.

She turned her eyes back to Quinn and found him watching her. He always seemed to be studying her like a specimen—a curiosity he unearthed on one of his digs and wanted to know more about.

“Something’s bothering me, Quinn.”

“About me or Jim Thorpe?”

“You.”

He gestured toward himself with his right hand. “Then let’s hear it.”

“When we were in my office that day and I was trying to find the library in my dream, you knew all along it was the Dimmick Library here in Jim Thorpe, didn’t you?”

“Not entirely, but I had my suspicions it might be.” He shrugged. “Victorian, red brick, the sound of the name—it all added up.”

“But you didn’t suggest it to me. You let me find it on my own, when you could have saved me time. Why?”

Their coffee came. He took a small sip. “Be careful,” he told her. “It’s quite hot.”

He looked across the table at Emma. Her arms were crossed in front of her, her jaw set. She was settled in, waiting for his answer, letting him know she wouldn’t move on until she got it. He surrendered. “Because I wanted to see how you worked. You know, how you processed things and problem-solved.”

“And?”

“And I’m quite impressed—have been since first meeting you on the set of your show. When I realized it was Jim Thorpe you were looking for, especially Betty Lou’s jail, wild horses couldn’t keep me from finding out why.”

He took another sip of his coffee. “It was fate, you know.”

“Fate?”

“Fate that I be on your show at just that moment when you were searching for something I knew a lot about. So why don’t you let me help and save you time?”

It did seem reasonable to Emma. “Okay, then. Tomorrow morning, breakfast, then how about a walking tour of the town before I meet Betty?”

“You’ll find my rates very reasonable. Dinner tomorrow night should cover it.”

Emma held her hand out across the table to shake on it. “But you must allow me to buy tomorrow night. After all, it is a business expense.”

He took her hand, and they did an exaggerated shake on the deal. “Now,” Quinn said, taking another drink of his coffee, “you ready to tell me about that dream?”

Emma opened her mouth just as her cell phone gave off a soft, insistent tone. She pulled it out of her purse and looked at the caller ID. “I’m sorry, Quinn, but I have to take this call.” She got up from the table and stepped down the hall by the restrooms for privacy. She was only gone a few minutes.

“Sorry,” she apologized again when she returned.

“Was that the guy in the photo on your desk?”

Emma felt her face flush and did her best to blame it on the booze in the coffee. “Yes, it was Phil. He’s on a camping trip with his sons, so his calling time is rather hit or miss.”

“How does this guy, this Phil, feel about your otherworld activities? Or can he see and hear them, too?”

Emma laughed, thinking about the first time Phil found out about her and Granny. “When we first met, he called me everything from a liar to crazy to psychotic. Now he and Granny are great pals.”

“Seriously? Even though he can’t see or hear her? Or has he developed that skill with time?”

“No, he can’t see or hear ghosts. But he’s very sensitive to when she’s around, and they have worked out their own system of communication.”

“What about the rest of your family?”

“My mother can hear Granny, but she cannot see her. I’m not sure if she can hear other spirits. Or if she can, she may be choosing to block them out.”

“You and your mother.” He took another sip of coffee. “Very interesting. Might be a genetic thing. What about your daughter?”

“I don’t think she can see or hear them, and I don’t think she wants to. She knows about Granny, and of course she knows about my show and other activities, but she seems a little uncomfortable with them.”

“Give her time.”

Emma played with her coffee cup, rotating it on its saucer. She wasn’t sure she wanted to give Kelly time. She liked Kelly just the way she was. “Honestly, Quinn, I’d be very happy if this talent skipped Kelly altogether. Although it’s called a gift, I often think it’s more of a curse.”

twenty-two

For their second cup,
Quinn and Emma skipped the coffee and ordered just the brandy.

“So you go around the world from dig to dig?” she asked once she convinced Quinn she wasn’t ready yet to share her dream about the Jim Thorpe jail.

“Pretty much. I’m hired to help a year or two on a dig, and sometimes my contract is extended. It’s a great way to see the world and meet fascinating people. I was on the Stonehenge project for the past three years. Sometimes, I give lectures at universities.”

“And when you’re not traveling the world, where do you call home?”

“That would be Philadelphia. Although, technically, my home is really a leased storage locker. Most of my things are there, but when I’m stateside I live with my mother in Philly.”

Emma swirled the amber liquid in her brandy snifter and smiled at the small waves.

“What are you grinning about, you minx? The fact that I live with my mother at my age?”

“No. At least not really.” She put down her brandy. “I’m laughing because I live with my parents, too. When I separated from Grant, my daughter and I moved in with them. After the divorce was final, they asked if I would stay. It made sense since they have a huge house in Pasadena and travel a good part of the year. I have a home in Julian, but Pasadena is my main residence.”

“I’ve heard of Julian, but I’ve never been there. It’s north of San Diego, isn’t it?”

“Yes, in the mountains. It’s a lot like Jim Thorpe in that it’s a historic town that the residents are preserving as a tourist destination. But it’s Western, with Victorian overtones. It’s known for apples.”

“And this great-great-great-grandmother of yours was from there?”

“Yes. She and her husband, Jacob, settled there originally to hunt for gold. Phil is also from there. We met when I went to Julian to learn more about Granny.”

Quinn studied Emma. “I’d love to see it one day. Would you be my guide if I visited?”

“Of course I would. You should come in the fall, when they have their annual apple festival. Although Julian doesn’t boast a haunted prison, we do have a tiny two-room historic jail.”

They sat quietly for a few moments, sipping brandy and enjoying the warm comfort that had built up between them during the evening.

“Do you ever think about settling down?” Emma finally asked. “Or are you going to wander the globe forever?” She paused, rethinking her questions. “Which really sounds kind of wonderful.”

“Not sure. I did try settling down for a while. My ex lives in Los Angeles—that’s who I was going to meet at Craft that night. She’s a talent agent in LA. When we met, she was really starting to climb in the business, and I had just received my PhD. When she became pregnant, we decided that I should settle in California since she made the most money. It made sense at the time, but I really hated living in Southern California, and I detested the whole show-biz scene. Finally, we called it quits, and I hit the road. Best thing we ever did. PC grew up with two loving parents who are good friends, instead of two unhappy people who felt trapped. I saw PC as much as possible, and when he was older, he visited me on my digs during school vacations.”

“I know what you mean,” Emma replied with a nod. “After Grant made it big, everything changed, and not for the best. Because of my show’s topic and because it’s on cable, it’s not quite the Hollywood scene, and I like it that way.”

Quinn looked around the restaurant, which was now empty except for them. “And I see the paparazzi don’t follow you around anymore.”

Emma groaned. “You saw some of that, did you?”

He tried to keep his face straight but couldn’t suppress a small chuckle. “Only when I was in the States or London. Celebrity gossip is huge in London. I think the highlight was that brawl you two had in a parking lot.”

“It wasn’t a parking lot,” Emma corrected, “it was my parents’ driveway. That was last November, after the divorce was final. Since then, we’ve kept our distance from each other. The paparazzi scum aren’t interested in me, only Grant, and I’m thrilled about that.”

“I can only imagine what they’d do and print if they knew about your ghost activities and dreams.”

Emma shuddered at the thought. “Some picked up on it, but when interest in me died, so did that. I’m sure the ghosts wouldn’t like all the publicity.”

Leaving the restaurant when it closed at nine, they strolled down Race Street, then back up Broadway to the inn. It was a chilly night with a cold breeze coming off the river on the other side of the train tracks.

“Yesterday,” Emma observed as she zipped up her jacket, “I was wearing shorts and a sleeveless blouse.”

“Nights will be cool here for a bit yet. You should be warm enough tomorrow during the day without a jacket if you wear a sweater.”

At her door back at the inn, they made arrangements to meet for breakfast. “How about meeting me downstairs around nine or nine thirty in the morning?” Quinn suggested.

“Nine is hardly early enough, is it?”

He fingered the collar on her jacket. “Considering your body is three hours behind, it will think it’s six. Not to mention you’ve had a snootful tonight. So sleep well, and get your rest. You don’t know what those nasty ghosts have in store for you tomorrow.”

“Sleeping in does sound lovely.”

“Give me your phone.”

“What?”

“Your phone. Hand it over.”

She did as he asked, and he punched in some numbers. “There, now you have my cell number stored in your phone.” He handed it back to her. “Now call it.”

Emma hit the call button, and his cell phone rang. “There,” he said, answering and disconnecting quickly. “And now I have yours. In the morning, when you get up, why don’t you give me a call and let me know what time you’ll be ready? That way you can sleep as long as you wish.”

“You’re just going to hang around and wait? Seems silly.”

“Not at all. I’ll have coffee and read the paper. I brought my laptop with me, so maybe I’ll even do some work. So you call and let me know when you want breakfast, or even if you’d rather skip it.” He gave her an exaggerated bow. “I’m at your service.”

“Quinn?”

He’d started across the hall to his own room but turned around.

Emma fought the urge to kiss him, blaming the booze as the catalyst for her feelings. Instead, she opened the door to her room as she glanced back at him. “I had a really good time tonight. Thank you for the lovely dinner.”

He shot her a boyish grin. “You’re quite welcome. Most charming business meal I’ve had in a very long time.”

Inside her room, Emma plopped down on the loveseat to consider her actions. She loved Phil. She couldn’t entertain kissing Quinn while she and Phil were living together as they were, not even if the arrangement was part-time. She pulled off her boots and went to the whirlpool to start the water running. Alcohol or not, she was still on Pacific time, and her body thought it was seven o’clock. A hot bath on top of the brandy and wine might make up the time difference. While the bath filled, she slipped out of her clothes, neatly hanging them in the closet along with the clothing she’d removed from her suitcase before heading out to dinner.

The ring was still there, hanging from the chain snuggled between her breasts. A couple of times during dinner Emma thought she’d felt the ring heat up, but she could have been mistaken. The heat could have been generated from her own confusion about Quinn. Taking off the ring, Emma tucked it inside its velvet pouch and stored it in her makeup case. She still didn’t know if wearing the ring around her neck would inhibit Addy’s behavior, but she didn’t want to find out. She wanted to sleep in peace tonight.

She was submerged in a hot tub of whirling lavender-scented water when her cell phone rang. She’d left it within reach on the wide ledge surrounding the tub in case Kelly called. The caller wasn’t her daughter, but Tracy Bass calling from England.

“I have news,” her best friend squealed over the air waves as soon as Emma answered. “Big news!”

Emma sat up in the tub, giving Tracy her full attention. “And that is?”

“We’re getting married!”

“You and Milo?”

“No, me and Prince Harry.” Tracy’s sarcasm was short-lived by her excitement. “
Of course
me and Milo, silly!”

“I am so happy for you two.”

“Wait a minute—you’re not as surprised as I had hoped. Did you know about this, Emma Whitecastle?”

“Umm…”

“Don’t lie to me, pal. You’re not good at it.” Before Emma could say anything further, Tracy gushed. “But of course you knew. The ring Milo gave me is gorgeous. Something tells me you had a hand in that.” Now that her initial surprise had been sprung, Tracy’s voice lowered to a loud whisper.

“I simply gave Milo some guidance, but he chose the ring himself.” Emma turned off the whirlpool to hear better but remained in the tub. “Have you set a date yet?”

“No. We’ll work on that when we get home. There are logistics to be worked out.”

“You mean your family?”

“Yeah. Even though they aren’t wild about Milo, they’ll want the wedding in Chicago.”

“What about Milo’s family? He never talks about them to me, so I’m not even sure he has any.”

Tracy sighed. “Until recently, he’s never mentioned family to me either, so I’m sure there’s a juicy story there. But not too long ago he let it slip that his mother lives in Las Vegas. I don’t think he sees her very often. Whenever I mention us going to visit, he changes the subject.”

“Makes you curious, doesn’t it?”

“You got that right.” Tracy paused to catch her breath. “I may not be proud of the nuts on my family tree, but I don’t hide them.”

Emma glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “Hey, isn’t it the middle of the night there?”

“Almost three thirty. Milo’s conked out cold. I couldn’t sleep, but I waited to call in case you were at the office. Must be what, nearly seven thirty?”

“Actually,” Emma said, glancing at the clock by the bed, “make that almost ten thirty. I’m not in California. I’m in Pennsylvania, soaking in an in-suite whirlpool in a town called Jim Thorpe. Got here just this evening.”

“Huh?”

“Jim Thorpe, Pennsylvania. It’s a small town near the Poconos that’s full of ghosts.”

“Ghosts aside, you’re there because…?”

“Remember that ring I emailed Milo about last week? Seems it’s haunted by a homicidal spirit from Jim Thorpe. I came here to see if I could find out more about her.”

“Isn’t Phil on that trip with his sons?”

“Yes, he left last night.”

“So you’re ghost wrangling alone? Not sure I like that, especially since you’re in unfamiliar surroundings. Granny can only do so much if you get into trouble.”

“I’ll be fine. It’s a charming town, and I’m not alone. An archeologist I had on my show last week is here with me. Seems he’s from Pennsylvania and knows a lot about this place.”

“An archeologist? So if danger comes calling, you’re going to throw a nerdy dirt digger at it?” Tracy laughed.

“Um, it would be more like Indiana Jones swooping in to rescue me. Granny thinks he’s Indiana Jones incarnate.”

Tracy was silent a moment while the image sunk into her skull. “Is he as cute as Indiana Jones?”

“Cuter.” Emma gave Tracy a rundown of Quinn’s bio.

“Does Phil know you’ve invited this life-size action figure along?”

“I didn’t invite him, Tracy.” Emma heard the defensiveness in her voice and brought it down a notch. “He helped me figure out where Addy—that’s the ghost—was from and followed me here. Seems he’s related to the people who own this haunted prison I had a dream about, and he got me in for a private showing.”

“Sounds reasonable, but watch your step. Okay?”

Instead of answering, Emma swished a hand back and forth in the water, making little waves in the scented bubbles.

“Okay, out with it, Emma. What else is going on?”

Emma continued making small splashes in the water while she tried to piece together her thoughts and feelings into something that made sense. “Do you think, Tracy, that maybe I should try dating other people?”

Now it was Tracy’s turn to be silent. It lasted less time than Emma’s. “Do you mean other than Phil Bowers? Or other people as in this archeologist specifically?”

Emma told Tracy about her conversation with Susan Steveson, then added, “Tracy, if not for Phil, I’m sure I would have kissed Quinn tonight. I know I love Phil, but now I’m not so sure I love him enough to make a life with him—not if I’m thinking of playing loosey-goosey with other men. I don’t want to be that person.”

“Being in love with Phil doesn’t mean you’re dead to other attractions, Emma. But I certainly understand your concern about Phil being the first and only man you’ve dated since your divorce.” She paused to give it thought. While she did, Emma ran more hot water into the tub.

“Emma, do you really want to date this archeologist, or was it just the heat of the moment?”

“If I wasn’t involved with Phil, Quinn would probably be sharing this whirlpool with me right now.”

“Okaaaay. But I’m not talking about lust fueled by dinner and drinks. You know you can build a life with Phil Bowers. That relationship could go the distance for sure.”

“I agree.”

“What about this guy? Is he a sprinter or a marathon runner? More importantly, which do you want for your future? There’s nothing wrong with the sprinter, as long as you know that’s what he is going into it.”

Emma thought about Quinn’s vagabond lifestyle. Globetrotting and researching ancient civilizations certainly sounded adventurous and romantic, but how could a long-lasting relationship be built if one party’s address is a storage locker?

“What do
you
want, Emma? Have you ever asked yourself that?”

“I’ve always wanted a marriage like my parents. No matter what life has thrown at them, they stand united and unbreakable.”

“Your parents are the gold standard of marriage, Emma. They set the bar high. Hell, they’re
my
role models.”

“I thought I had that with Grant; now I wonder if it’s possible to have such a marriage any longer. Maybe it’s too old-fashioned for today’s lifestyle.”