Spooky Skeleton Read online

When I got to the foyer, my heart was already beating fast. I kept expecting the doorbell to ring any second. It was time for Grant to arrive.

  Unfortunately, I made it all the way to the bottom of the stairs and he wasn’t there yet. Disappointed, and not willing to embarrass myself by lingering in the front hall, I made my way to the kitchen. I’d still be able to hear the doorbell ring, but I wouldn’t look overeager.

  As I was passing Steve’s door, he stuck his head out.

  “Hey! How are you?” he asked.

  I paused. Steve never asked that question.

  “Fine. You?” I said.

  “You look nice,” he said.

  “What do you want?” I asked.

  He looked around as if to make sure no one was listening. What was it with secrets around this place recently?

  “Was going to ask you a favor, actually. Surprised you could tell,” he said.

  “What’s the favor?”

  He dipped his head, bent forward, and whispered something.

  He desperately did not want to help out in the haunted house.

  I told him that would be fine, then excused myself and hurried into the kitchen. I could hear voices and they sounded amused. Any time my family was laughing, you wanted to check on them. Who knew what they’d gotten up to this time.

  I burst through the door with a little more force than I meant to. Standing there was my entire family, except for Corey. The all surrounded Grant, who was seated at the counter and looked like he’d been there for a while.

  Everyone stopped dead as I entered.

  “Relax. Where’s the fire?” Cam said with raised eyebrows.

  I glared at him. “I was just hungry for dinner.”

  “It’s ready to go. Corey should be here any minute. Let’s go to the dining room,” said Audrey.

  As soon as I saw the spread in the dining room, I knew that Audrey had taken Grant’s joining us seriously. The table was set more nicely than usual, and she had lit candles along the wall.

  On top of that, the curtains were thrown wide. The open windows provided a beautiful view of our grounds.

  In the jumble to find seating, I was glad that Lizzie had given up on Grant as a romantic option. All she cared about was sitting next to Kip.

  She managed it, but her joy was short-lived. “Actually, Lizzie. Can you let Cam sit next to me? We have to go over some work for tomorrow,” he said.

  Her face fell one million miles. It was the first time in a long time that I almost felt sorry for her.

  Everyone else at the table clearly felt the same way. Kip, Cam, and Corey, who had now joined us, were the only ones still oblivious to the fact that Lizzie was crazy about Kip.

  Grant was a special investigator, so I supposed we couldn’t give him too much credit for noticing the interaction between Kip and Lizzie. The rest of us were women.

  Lizzie got up and moved to sit next to my mother, who was still dressed in her work clothes. She had just spent the last three minutes scrubbing the dirt out of her hands in the kitchen.

  There was nobody at the mansion who worked harder than my mother did. Even Cookie wouldn’t dispute that, and she disputed everything.

  In general, my mother and I had a contentious relationship, but even though we had our disagreements, there were some things I very much appreciated about her, first and foremost the fact that she was so focused on work. Sometimes, though, that quality made it difficult for her to notice anything else going on, for example, the fact that I went scarlet when Grant sat down next to me.

  “I hope you don’t mind my sitting here. The seat isn’t taken, is it?” he asked politely.

  I was so flustered by his attention and proximity that I couldn’t get a word out. I merely waved for him to sit down. I kept remembering our kiss, and thinking about what it would be like to kiss him again on our third date.

  In fact, I was having an inner monologue with myself about that. Since I wanted to kiss him so badly, I wondered if I just should. It would be a bold move for me, since I usually sat back and waited for other people to set the stage, especially in this case.

  Somehow, I had a sense that Grant might actually like it if I initiated a kiss. He had done all the work so far, as he should, but I also didn’t want him to think I wasn’t spontaneous. I could grab him and kiss him if I wanted to.

  “Earth to Jane. Come in, Jane. Please pass the potatoes,” said Cam, who was glaring at me from across the table.

  I came to my senses and realized that I had been far off in my own little world. I quickly my brother the potatoes. Food was flying around the table, and I was missing it.

  “For someone who was so hungry, you’re awfully slow,” said Cam dryly.

  I thought about sticking my tongue out at him and told myself it wouldn’t be a very mature thing to do. But when I was sure Grant wasn’t looking, I stuck it out just a tiny bit. Satisfied, I settled back to enjoy dinner.

  For a split second no one said anything, and I worried that there would be a long, awkward silence.

  Then Grant asked, “How has the haunted house been going?”

  My mother launched into an answer that wasn’t finished until everyone was mostly done with the first course. It wasn’t until even later that I realized how much fun I was having. Everyone was telling stories. Grant was asked to recount the tale of his time in Arizona. By the time dessert came, Grant was joking with Kip about the best way to deal with attack bats. It wasn’t until that moment that I realized how well Grant fit in with my family.

  Once dinner was finished, we all pitched in to clean up. Meg told Grant he didn’t have to help, but he insisted. “I ate the food, didn’t I? I live on the grounds. I’m not that much of a guest anymore,” he said.

  After that, I reluctantly excused myself. Cookie had engaged Grant in a discussion about the Great Skeleton Revolt of 2009. Apparently Grant had been there, and it had been epic.

  I was halfway up the main staircase when I heard my name being called.

  I turned around to see Grant striding after me, looking extra cute in his dark outfit.

  I paused, then quickly turned around and went back to him.

  “Sorry to rush after you like this. Are you free Friday? I thought it might be a good night for our date,” he explained.

  “Oh um, yes, I mean no.” In the jumble that was my mind, I wondered if I should be playing hard to get right now. Should I tell him I had to check my schedule, even though I didn’t have one? I firmly believed that relationships should be more than just games, but if people played games, I could too. I think! Maybe! I certainly wasn’t going to be like Lizzie and potion the guy.

  “Which is it?” He looked more amused than annoyed.

  “Yes, I’m free,” I sounded strangled.

  “Great! I’ll pick you up at seven,” he said.

  “Great,” I said.

  “Have a good night,” he said.

  “You too.”

  It wasn’t until he turned to stride away that I noticed movement at the library door, and also from the hallway where Grant had just gone.

  There had been supernaturals watching our exchange. By the time I realized that we’d had an audience, Grant had gotten to the front door and was now looking over his shoulder to smile at me. Once he was gone, I came back down the last two steps.

  Steve, Jezebel, and several other ghosts and skeletons were peeking around doorways to stare at us.

  “That’s so romantic,” said Mr. Blacksmith. “If only I could cry.”

  “You big softy,” sighed Jezebel. “There is such a thing as true love.”

  I felt my face turning bright red. “Come on,” I said, shaking my head. “You’re being ridiculous. That’s a lot of pressure.”

  “He wants to take you on a date Friday. He asked nice and proper. It’s lovely,” said an older lady ghost name Florence.

  “He actually sent me flowers yesterday,” I said, sending the supernaturals off into another series of coos.

&
nbsp; My heart was still racing and my palms felt warm. Our third date was set for Friday. If it went well, it would be time to tell my mother and start following all the rules set out for witches and warlocks dating . . . and wouldn’t that be fun?

  Chapter Twelve

  I was halfway up the main staircase when I remembered that I was supposed to go Down Below.

  I totally didn’t want to. I wanted to flop on my bed, ignore Lady Oakley, and daydream about Grant. But I knew my duty. I turned around and headed for the mailroom.

  It had been a while since I had the pleasure of the Fudge’s company. I wondered what card game he’d be playing tonight.

  Peter met me at the top of the stairs, his expression grave as he held the torch aloft.

  “Are you coming down to talk to the Fudge about what’s going on?” he asked, sounding dejected.

  Instantly my curiosity was piqued.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  Peter let out an exasperated noise. “What I told you about!”

  “No, I’m not coming to ask him about too much peace and quiet,” I said.

  “Well, you should,” grumbled Peter.

  “I know. You’ve said it’s fishy,” I muttered.

  Peter led the way, and soon enough I was utterly confused and turned around about where I was. At any moment, I expected crazy criminal Down Below dwellers to step out of the shadows and attack me. But none appeared.

  Peter was moving at a fast clip. Most of the doors we passed were firmly shut. Behind them was silence.

  Finally Peter knocked on a certain door, and I started to see some features that were familiar from other times I had been Down Below. The Fudge’s office had several pipes outside it, all sticking out of the ceiling at weird angles. I hoped those pipes didn’t go anywhere important, but I wasn’t going to bank on that.

  “Come in,” barked the Fudge.

  Peter swept the door open and I stepped through. To my surprise, Peter then left and the door closed with a snap behind me. I looked around and found that I was alone with Fudgy Berry.

  This was not something I was used to.

  Fudgy was sitting at his spacious, official-looking desk. Immediately he looked up at me and murmured, “Well, well, well, so you want to speak with me. I thought you’d bring an army of your friends.” His face was bulging out slightly, and for once he wasn’t playing cards. Instead he was behind a typewriter.

  “I hope you aren’t writing an article for the Spooky Times,” I said sternly.

  The Fudge immediately looked amused. “Wouldn’t want to upset your mother any more than she already is, would we?”

  My mom hated the articles in the Spooky Times.

  “Pretty sure Cookie is the one you don’t want to upset,” I said casually.

  That got the Fudge’s attention. “Very well. What is it I can do to help you?”

  He motioned for me to sit down. There was a thin imprint on the seat, while the rest of it was covered with dust. It took me a moment to realize that the imprint was from a skeleton who had sat on the chair. I quickly brushed off the whole seat and then sat. The Fudge watched this display with interest and amusement.

  “I want to do a deal with you,” I said. I had decided to come at this from a business perspective.

  “What kind of a deal would that be?” The Fudge now looked delighted, kind of like a fox that had spotted a cat. I instantly felt cornered and wished I had brought someone with me. It was like I had walked into the lion’s den with a slab of rare meat around my neck. The Fudge was evil and opportunistic, and I wasn’t at all certain I was a match for him.

  “We need more supernaturals in rotation upstairs in the haunted house. I was hoping to see if any of the Down Below supernaturals would be interested,” I explained.

  The Fudge sat back. “Having trouble recruiting good help?”

  I bit my tongue on that. To agree with him would imply that I thought his lackeys were good help, something I definitely wasn’t certain of. We just needed supernaturals.

  “Are you interested?” I asked.

  He shrugged and sat forward again. “What brings you to me?”

  “You’re in charge of labor and work down here. I don’t think for a second that supernaturals could agree to help me without your permission. There’s no point in my wasting my time trying to convince them to do it without talking to you first.”

  “Several dwellers here had side gigs as performers in their day. You wouldn’t have to convince them of much,” he said.

  “All the better if they actually enjoyed the job,” I agreed.

  “What news of the murder?” The Fudge opened one of the desk drawers and started searching for something while he spoke.

  Annoyed at him for starting a second conversation when we hadn’t finished the first, I said, “There’s no news. There was one.”

  “You must have heard something. You’re an investigator, after all. I know you went into town that day. Some of us could hear your mother yelling about it all the way down here.” He smiled at me and I flinched a bit.

  “Elton was the town mechanic. He was murdered. That’s about all I know,” I said.

  The Fudge was nodding slowly, but he still didn’t look convinced that I was telling him everything. Continuing to fidget, he pulled a cigar and a lighter out of the desk drawer and proceeded to light them, then sat back in his chair and puffed. Rings of smoke came out of his mouth, and I tried to hold my breath to keep from coughing. He was giving me a strange look. I tried to keep my cool, but his stalling tactics were driving me insane.

  “What if I told you that was my price?” he asked, when the silence had stretched on for so long that even he didn’t like it.

  “Price for what?” I asked.

  “I want information on this murder. I want to know everything you know. If you tell me everything, you can have your pick of Down Below dwellers. I would even go so far as to make them help you,” he offered.

  I frowned. I didn’t even want to think about how he planned to do that.

  “I’m not an official investigator on the case,” I told him.

  “On Cookie’s orders, no doubt?” he murmured, and I nodded.

  “We all have bosses. I don’t hold that against you. Still, you know more than you’ve told me,” he said.

  “What are you going to do with the information?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  I frowned at him, mulling it over. I should have expected that the condition would be something like this. I knew coming in that it would be something I wouldn’t want to give. If I were being entirely honest, I had expected much worse.

  Eventually I decided that maybe I should take this opportunity and run with it. Across the table, the criminal mastermind was waiting for my response. There was no doubt more to this bargain than met the eye, but maybe not so much more that it mattered.

  “You have a deal. Here is what I know,” I said.

  I leaned forward and really did tell him everything I knew, not leaving out the part about the house, or Paul. My grandmother had taken papers from Elton’s house, and I told Fudgy that, too. I would just have to go straight upstairs and warn her.

  Fudgy didn’t seem terribly interested in the house, and I thought that was strange. He was far more interested in who had killed Elton. When I tried to ask him why he wanted to know, he wouldn’t answer.

  “If you get any word on who the murderer is, I would like to hear about it as soon as possible,” he said.

  “Very well,” I said. “How should I get in touch with you?”

  “The mailbox is fine. You don’t have to worry about your reputation. I’ve already told everyone that I’m bribing you,” he said.

  My mouth fell open slightly. “Of course you did. Meanwhile, do you have any idea who would like to work upstairs?” I said.

  “Like I said, there are several performers down here. You can probably find them playing cards. I’ll take you there so I can join
the game,” he said.

  It was strange walking through the tunnels with the Fudge. We only saw a couple of other supernaturals, and they did not look pleased to see me. On the other hand, they were clearly thrilled to see their boss. They smiled, bowed, and got out of the way.

  “It’s as if you’re a celebrity down here,” I said.

  “Of course I am. I’ve worked very hard over many years to gain the status I have. Make no mistake, they have respect for me because I’ve earned it. Here it is,” he said.

  If I had been expecting a raucous party, I was destined to be disappointed. Fudgy opened the door to silence.

  The room held at least twenty supernaturals, most of whom I had never seen before. The only faces I recognized were Bert, Peter, and Buck. When everyone saw me, they started to stand up, clearly trying to get away, their instincts for evasion taking over. Once they realized I was with the Fudge, they all sat back down again, though they still looked wary.

  “Evening, fellow thieves. We have an announcement and a request from our liaison. I trust you will all listen to her respectfully and respond positively if at all possible,” he said.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The shift in the room was palpable. The change from distrust to interest seeped out of every supernatural.

  The Fudge was looking at me expectantly.

  Unsure of myself, I nevertheless stepped forward and addressed the group. “We’re looking for more part-time help at the haunted house,” I said, looking around to see if I could find the handful of faces I had already picked out as potentially being interested in such a job.

  Bert and Buck were in the back of the room, both of them drifting aimlessly but with their attention entirely focused on me.

  “This would only be a couple of times a week, just to spell the supernaturals that we already have up there,” I explained. “Who’s interested?”

  No one moved. Not a hand went up and not a voice rang out.

  “She said, ‘Who’s interested’! Answer the woman,” barked the Fudge.

  Half the arms in the place rose into the air. Some of the supernaturals were nodding as if they were trying to appear enthusiastic. I couldn’t tell if they actually were or not.