Ghost a La Mode (20 page)

WHILE PHIL LOOKED AT the two of them in disbelief, Emma shot Ian a look of indignation sharp enough to poke out an eye. She'd noticed he didn't say anything about his own alleged talents. Ian Reynolds took it all in stride.

"Would you forget about ghosts," Emma snapped at Phil. "You, too," she said to Ian. "You saw nothing."

It was then that Emma remembered they were not alone. The older couple was staring at her. So was the waitress. She didn't have to look in a mirror to know that her face resembled a wildfire. She could feel the heat traveling up her neck to her hairline.

She gave the couple a sweet-as-pie smile. They continued to stare.

"Great. The whole world's going to think I'm a crackpot."

Ian gave her his signature smug smile. "No, just this hick town."

Both Emma and Phil scowled at him.

"Okay," Emma began again, "let's get down to business. What's going on with the Reynolds property?"

"It's simple," Ian explained. "I want it, and he won't sell it."

Phil Bowers smacked his hand on the table. "It's not for sale. And even if it were, I wouldn't sell it to you."

Ian's eyes challenged his opponent. "Maybe we should let the law decide that." "

I am a lawyer, damn it. You have no legal right to that property."

"Hold on a minute" Emma stretched her hands across the table to keep them apart. The two men measured each other like boxers in a ring. "Now, I'm not a lawyer, and I don't know squat about real estate, but it seems to me, Ian, if the Bowers family doesn't want to sell that property, you can't make them."

Ian looked at her with surprise. "One would think, cousin, that you'd be more on board with recovering that property. After all, if Ish Reynolds hadn't been murdered, it might still be in the family."

"And if she hadn't been murdered, Winston might not have left Julian, and you and I might never have existed"

Phil chuckled. "Touche"

It was then that Emma looked up toward the door and saw Granny Apples. Her image was hovering by the cash register, near the area where the Rong Branch displayed local gift items for sale, such as jams and candies. But the ghost didn't come near and remained silent. Emma squinted, trying to see if Granny was attempting to give her a signal, but she couldn't make out anything. The two men noticed Emma's concentration, and both turned in the direction of the door. Granny disappeared.

It was then Emma remembered that Granny didn't have any problem showing up when Phil Bowers was around. She had even tried to defend Emma when Bowers dragged her to the car earlier. Phil couldn't see or hear the ghost, so Granny didn't mind being visible and talking to Emma around him. Ian, on the other hand, told her he could see them. So why had Granny disappeared just now? Could it be she didn't want to be seen by Ian?

She leaned against the back of the booth and tried to pry open that portion of her brain that might reveal what she was forgetting. Phil was sitting still. He was studying her, full-blown skepticism tattooed across his sturdy face. Ian also studied her, but his look was one of observance gift-wrapped in a smirk.

Then she remembered.

A chill shot through her body like an icy stream. She wanted to run, to get away from Ian, but there was still much to find out. More than ever, she needed to know who he was and what he wanted-and what his connections were to the spirit world. She cleared her throat and got down to work.

"Why do you want that property, Ian? You don't look like you're from around here any more than I do."

"He's from Los Angeles, Fancy Pants, just like you. A real-estate developer. You're both a couple of damn carpetbaggers. How do I know the two of you are even related to the Reynolds clan?"

"You're going to build on that land?" Emma's question was accusatory.

"Condos. Low-level ones, of course, that blend into the natural environment."

"Over my dead body," added Phil. He stood up from the table.

Ian took a sip of coffee and gave Phil a bored look, as if he were dealing with an annoying child. "Cut the drama, Bowers."

The words played like gasoline on Phil's already angry flames. "Even if you manage to cheat your way into that property, I'll make sure you never get a building permit. People here are fussy about new construction."

Ian chuckled. "Trust me, the permit will be no problem." He shook his head. "You may have a law degree, Bowers, but you're still a hayseed."

Phil Bowers flung the chair out of his way and started for Ian in the booth. Ian threw his coffee at Phil's face, but Phil turned just in time for the warm brown liquid to strike his right shoulder.

Emma shot out of the booth. "Stop it! Both of you!"

As Phil grabbed Ian by his shirt front and pulled him from the booth, Emma got an idea. Using the fight as cover, she pulled her cell phone from her pocket and snapped off a few quick photos of the fight.

Beverly rushed over, furious. "Okay, folks, closing time. Phil, I'm surprised at you."

The elderly couple quickly got up and headed for the register. The man tossed the bill and money on the counter. "Keep the change," he called as they scooted out the door.

After the brief but explosive fight, Beverly ejected them all with a few well-chosen curse words. Outside the restaurant, the only vehicle in the parking area was Phil Bowers' truck. Emma started to cross Washington at an angle, heading for the city hall on the corner. Beyond it, just a block down Main Street, was her hotel. She was anxious to reach it for many reasons.

"Wait, Emma, I'll go with you."

She stopped and turned to see Ian walking toward her. Phil leaned against the tailgate of his truck, watching them both.

She stopped halfway across the empty street and pointed a finger at Ian. "Oh, no, you don't. You stay away from me."

"I have a room at the hotel. We can walk together. We still need to talk."

"No, thanks. I'd feel safer walking alone."

"The lady doesn't want you near her, Reynolds." Phil Bowers left his truck and covered the few step to Ian, his fists poised to take a swing. He looked at Emma. "I can walk you back. I came by to take Bev home tonight, but she still has a few things to do."

Emma considered his invitation. She wasn't a big fan of Phil Bowers, but at least she trusted him more than Ian Reynolds. He was gruff and had a bad temper, but she was pretty sure he was exactly who he said he was.

"Do me a different favor, Phil. Stand here and make sure this creep doesn't follow me for at least five minutes. I'll be inside my room by then."

"I don't like the idea of this joker being at the same hotel."

Emma stared at Ian Reynolds. He stared back, his dark eyes fixed on her face, all trace of earlier pleasantries gone.

"I'll be fine, Phil. It's a small hotel. If he tries anything, everyone will hear."

Phil Bowers stepped between Emma and Ian. He turned to face Ian and crossed his powerful arms across his chest.

"There's no need for this, Emma," Ian called to her.

"You heard the lady, Reynolds." Bowers stepped closer to him. "And just to be sure, we're giving her a ten-minute head start."

In spite of her bruised legs, Emma started for the Julian Hotel in a dead run.

The hotel was locked up for the night, and the lobby was empty as she made her way up the narrow wooden staircase to the second floor. As soon as she got into her room, Emma locked the door and barricaded it with the straight-backed chair. She didn't know which room Ian Reynolds was staying in tonight, but she wasn't taking any chances.

Yanking her cell phone out of her jeans pocket, she tried to call Milo again, but it went straight into voice mail. She left him a message saying it was urgent. Noting her battery was low, she dug out her charger from her luggage and plugged it in, thankful she'd remembered to bring it. Then she called Tracy.

"Are you busy tomorrow?" she asked as soon as her friend answered.

"No," Tracy said eagerly. "Want me to come to Julian?"

"Trust me, I'd love to see you, but I'm coming home tomorrow.

"Then let's have dinner, and you can fill me in on all the juicy ghost stuff."

"Dinner sounds good, but first would you go by the pet hotel and get Archie, just in case I'm not home before they close? You still have the key to the house, don't you?" When Emma's aunt Kitty had died, Tracy was given a key to the Miller house to keep an eye on Archie the few days they were gone.

"Yep. Still have it."

"Good. I'll call the pet place and let them know you'll be picking him up."

"You okay, pal? You sound funny."

"I'm fine. Just exhausted. Took a nasty spill down some stairs." Emma laughed lightly so as not to concern her friend. "I'm okay, but I'm sure I'll be stiff tomorrow."

"A few cosmopolitans tomorrow night will fix that."

After the call, Emma took a hot shower, put on her nightgown, and crawled into the comfy bed she'd dreamed about off and on all day. She wished Milo would call. She didn't know his e-mail address or she would have sent him the photos. She lay in the dark, the phone clutched in her hand, as her mind raced over the events and information of the day like a race car over a fast oval track. Every noise put her on alert for Ian Reynolds. She heard people chatting in low voices as they made their way down the hall to their room. From the room next door came the sound of the shower. Outside, beyond the curtained windows, a soft breeze rustled the trees. Every sound was amplified and grated on her nerves.

In spite of feeling the familiar chill, she was even startled when Albert Robinson walked through the closed door. The ghost of the hotel's founder sat down in the chair that was tipped against the door and made himself comfortable.

Emma sighed in relief, happier to see a spirit than a live person at that moment. "Good to see you, Albert." The ghost gave her a courtly nod.

"Where's Granny?" asked Emma.

"Don't rightly know."

"Thank you for telling Billy Winslow to speak with me."

The ghost nodded, maintaining his proper and distinguished posture.

"Do you know who Ian Reynolds is?"

"I'm afraid I don't."

After a long pause, Emma said in a small voice, "I'm scared, Albert."

"No need, Emma. I'm here now. You get some sleep."

MILO CALLED EARLY THE next morning while Emma was putting her bags in the trunk of her car. She told him about Ian Reynolds and what he'd said about being able to see spirits.

"Maybe it runs in the family," Milo offered as a way of explanation. "Can't your mother at least hear them?"

"But I don't think this guy is really Ian Reynolds. Granny told me that she had tried to contact Ian Reynolds once, but he couldn't hear or see spirits. This guy claims he can, and from what I've witnessed, he's telling the truth, at least about that. And the strange thing is when he's around, the spirits disappear."

"That is odd. It usually means they don't trust or like the per„ son.

"Give me your e-mail address. I have some photos of him on my phone. They're not the best, but maybe this guy is someone you've seen as a client or something."

"Okay, but it may take awhile. I don't have the fastest system, and I'm not that computer savvy, especially with stuff like this."

After sending the photos to Milo, Emma headed into her last breakfast at the Julian Hotel. She'd almost skipped it, not wanting to bump into Ian, but so far she'd seen no sign of him.

The hotel had been almost completely booked the night before, and the small, square tables in the dining room were nearly full. In the corner nearest the kitchen was a table set for four with only two people seated at it. Emma's heart sank when she recognized the older couple from the Rong Branch the night before. They spied Emma about the same time. The man frowned. The woman looked embarrassed. Emma chose a small table near the opposite door occupied by two older women-one large and round, the other thin and angled. Both had short gray hair.

"May I sit here?" she asked.

"Of course, dear," said the plump woman.

Someone came in from the kitchen and set a bowl of homemade granola in front of Emma. It was the same cereal they'd served her yesterday. It was delicious. She'd even bought a bag to take home to her mother. She began to pour milk over it when she noticed that the two women, who'd been chatting with great animation prior to her arrival, were silent.