The Ghoul Next Door (3 page)

“Why do you think this guy’s possessed?” Heath asked.

Steven sighed and rubbed the stubble on his chin. “You have to see it to believe it,” he said. “But I’m telling you, there is a ghost haunting this young man. My fiancée, Courtney, can tell you about it better than me. I’d like to introduce you if you’re interested in taking on the case.”

“Possession isn’t exactly our area of expertise,” I said. No
way
was I getting involved in this. (Okay, so really, no
way
was I meeting his fiancée!)

“It wouldn’t hurt to meet her and talk about it,” Heath said, never once turning his face away from Steven. “Is Courtney nearby?”

I felt my posture stiffen. Again the corners of Steven’s mouth quirked. “She’s at work at the hospital.”

Now my smile was forced. “Oh? Is she a candy striper or something?” (Please, oh, please let her job be unimpressive!)

“Surgeon,” Steven said.

(Dammit!)

“General surgeon?” I asked. Before a devastating injury to his hand, Steven had once been one of the best heart surgeons in the world. Maybe he’d met another heart surgeon he was attracted to but secretly competitive with. Maybe their competitive nature would eventually escalate to the point that they’d hate each other. . . .

“Neurosurgeon,” he said.

(Double-dammit!)

“Ah,” Heath said smugly. “A brain surgeon. That’s cool.”

I was sincerely regretting not having dashed out of the room ten minutes earlier. “Well, I’m sure she’s lovely,” I said. No one in the room believed me. “And while I’d
really
like to meet her, we’re just coming off a crazy intense shooting schedule and I’m not sure we’ll have time on this hiatus to take on any new cases.”

Steven cocked his head. “That’s not what your Facebook page says. Forgive me for keeping tabs on you,” he said with a sheepish grin, “but I needed your help and looked online to see where in the world you were. I was surprised to find you back here in Boston, and your status this morning said that you couldn’t wait to get back to work on some regular cases.”

(A dammit three-peat!)

“We can at least meet her, Em,” Heath said agreeably. I wanted to choke him. “How about dinner tonight?”

“That’d be great,” Steven said, already standing up. “Say around seven?”

“Seven thirty would be better,” Heath said (just to be a pain in the butt, I thought).

Steven smiled tightly. “Of course. Courtney will be coming off a twenty-four-hour shift, but if it’s better for you . . .”

Heath wavered and I was still looking for a way out of this. “We can probably make seven,” he said.

“Good,” Steven said, and with that, he turned and headed to the door. Before exiting, he paused and turned back to look at me. “We can meet at the place I took you to on our first date. Do you remember?”

I felt my posture stiffen again. At this rate I’d need the Jaws of Life to ever get myself to relax again. “I do.”

“Excellent,” Steven said. “See you.” And with that, he was gone.

It took me much of the next hour to get my head around the fact that my ex-boyfriend was engaged. I felt a mix of emotions, all of them small and petty.

I did my best to hide them from Heath, but he was on to me. “Wanna talk about it?” he asked after my eleventieth sigh.

I forced a smile. “Nope.”

“Wanna go for a run?” he asked next.

I sat up in my chair. A run was exactly what I needed. “Yes,” I said. “I think I would.”

Heath and I closed up the office and headed to my condo, which was practically next door, to change. I live in a city just outside of Boston called Arlington. I like it because it still has the feel of living in the city but carries a little more greenery. My condo sits in a fairly nondescript building on Mass Avenue, with my unit tucked nicely in the back away from the sounds of traffic. Gilley owns the condo one floor below mine, and often cooks me breakfast. When Heath and I entered my condo, I didn’t hear any noises coming from downstairs—no music or the loud clomping of footsteps—and I wondered if he’d gone out. Heath and I changed and hit the trail about a half mile from my home.

My boyfriend is an incredible athlete. He can run for days and barely look winded. He’s lean and strong and pushes me to run faster and farther. As we were training for a half marathon in the next few weeks, I appreciated his presence. I also appreciated that he doesn’t talk a lot on the trail.

The run was just what I needed. I was able to sort out a lot of my feelings about Steven during the hour run, and put many of those feelings that were hurtful into perspective. I wondered if Steven had felt all of what I was going through when he learned that I was falling for Heath. I hadn’t cheated on Steven with Heath—but I’d come close. Steven had been incredibly mature and understanding about it too. I remember seeing the surprise in his eyes when I told him that I didn’t think it was working out between us, but I could tell that he wasn’t as shocked by the fact that I was breaking up with him as much as he was surprised that my heart had already moved on to someone else.

It made me feel even worse about the way I’d handled the situation, and I knew I couldn’t fault Steven for moving on so quickly either.

Still, the truth was that it hurt a little to learn that he hadn’t just moved on—he’d committed. A subtle difference maybe, but one that stung.

As Heath and I finished the seven-mile loop, he fiddled with his watch and held his hand high. “Eight-minute mile, girl! Way to go!”

I blinked. The fastest we’d ever done that loop was an eight-fifteen average pace. And although I was winded and sweaty, I hadn’t felt the pain of pushing myself to a faster time. “Are you for real?” I asked him.

He showed me the watch. “You did good, babe. You’ll be running times in the sevens before you know it.” He added a hug and I realized right then that I’d been wasting a lot of time feeling upset about Steven when I’d already landed the best guy ever. Heath was always there for me, in every way. He understood me like Steven never had, and he watched over me without hovering, or being needy. He was also a fellow medium, and that was a whole other side of me that needed no explanation for Heath.

“Love you,” I whispered and squeezed him tight.

Heath chuckled and kissed the top of my head. “That’s a relief,” he said. “I was beginning to worry you might have regrets about us ever since Sable walked through the door.”

I sighed. “If I had any, it was only because of the way I handled the breakup.” That was a teensy bit of a lie, but Heath didn’t need to know that.

Heath let go of me and took my hand. “Come on, let’s get some coffee.”

Now, I know it sounds weird to go for coffee after a hot, sweaty run, but it was something that both Heath and I really enjoyed. Plus, even though it was late spring, the day was a little chilly. By the time we got to Mama Dell’s Coffee Shop, we had both cooled down and were looking forward to the smooth, rich brew that she served.

Mama Dell is a dear friend of mine. Originally from South Carolina, Mama D. is a tiny woman with a bigger-than-life personality. In years past her coffee shop had done quite well in spite of the fact that her coffee tasted only slightly better than tar, and that almost directly across the street from her was a Dunkin’ Donuts—a New England staple if ever there was one.

Somewhere along the line when I’d been in Europe hunting down spooks, some brave person had finally posted a review of Mama’s coffee on Yelp. It hadn’t been kind, but it’d been the truth. That’d sort of sparked a wave of similar reviews, but the funny thing was, almost all the negative reviews had been coupled with four stars, because everyone
loved
Mama Dell. What she lacked in brew know-how she more than made up for in personality.

Still, Mama D. was determined not to let those reviewers have the last Yelp. She flew to South America and took a course in coffee brewing from the best coffee bean growers in the world. Then she flew to Hawaii and cultivated relationships with some Kona Coffee growers. Finally, she even headed to Ethiopia and toured a few coffee plantations there too. She came back with an amalgamation of three signature blends, and now she’s got so much business you can almost never get in the door before ten a.m.

It’s a little quieter in the afternoons, and Heath and I found the place only modestly packed when we walked through the doors of the cozy café. Mama D.’s shop is full of kitschy touches. There’s a large rack to the side of the front door where patrons who plan to have their coffee in can select a mug that matches their mood or personality. Against one wall is a huge bookcase stocked full of dog-eared paperback mysteries that Mama has collected over the years and chooses to share with her patrons. It works on the honor system, and it’s a rare thing for a patron to borrow a book and not bring it back. It’s far more likely that her customers actually add to the collection. Near the register is a large pastry case chock-full of tasty delights fresh baked that morning, from Mama’s famous banana nut bread to fruit tarts created by her husband, known only as “the Captain.”

Deeper inside the coffee shop are cozy seating areas, where overstuffed chairs, perfect for taking a load off or sinking into a good book, beckon all who enter. Mama D.’s clientele rarely tap away on computers or phones—that’s frowned upon by Mama—and those that continue to resist the unspoken rule soon learn they’d be better suited to hanging out at Starbucks for such activities. Mama Dell’s place is for relaxing, chatting with friends, enjoying the ambience, smooth coffee, and delicious pastry. It isn’t a substitute workplace, and she makes sure her patrons know the difference.

I think that’s the real reason she has such a loyal following. At Mama’s you can completely relax, not stress yourself out by reading an e-mail, or seeing that your friends on Facebook are having a better time. Here you can unplug, and it’s wonderful.

“Well, there’s a sight for sore eyes!” I heard her call as Heath and I picked through the rack of mugs, hunting for just the right ones for our coffee.

I turned and saw her wiping her hands on a towel while she quick-stepped it over to me. “Afternoon, darlin’!” she sang as she wrapped me in a hug before turning to Heath to hug him too. “How y’all doin’ today?”

I felt my shoulders relax. Mama D. has the loveliest Southern charm about her. She reminds me of home, and my own mama. “We’re good, Mama D. You?”

“Oh, Lord!” she exclaimed. “What a morning it’s been! The Captain’s been with the architect all morning and I think his head’s about to explode. We’re going a little over budget, but we need the space.”

Mama D. has plans to expand into the office space next door, as the rug dealer that’d previously occupied that space had gone out of business. If they go through with their plans, Mama D.’s will double its square footage.

Our host continued to chat happily at us as she crooked her finger for us to follow her over to the counter, where she ducked behind the pastry case and came up with two slabs of banana nut bread and her delicious honey butter without even waiting for our order. She then filled our cups and waved her hand at Heath when he tried to pay. I saw him put a ten in her tip jar.

And then she said, “Oh, do you know who came into the shop this morning, M.J.? Dr. Sable! And guess what! He’s engaged! He showed me a picture of his fiancée, oh! What a pretty girl!”

All that tension that’d fallen away walked right back up my spine. Mama D. had set up my first date with Steven, and even though she knew we’d split up, she still remained a big fan of his. As she chatted on about how well he looked and how good it was to see him, I pushed a big old smile onto my face and nodded like a bobblehead.

“We saw him this morning,” Heath said, subtly placing a hand on my lower back. “And we’re meeting Steven and his fiancée for dinner.”

Mama D. clapped her hands together. “That’s wonderful! Oh, I’m so happy y’all are getting along so well.”

I was grinding my teeth together so hard that I couldn’t really respond, but for Mama D.’s sake I kept that big smile firmly planted on my face, and thankfully, a group of students approached the counter with mugs and hungry expressions. Heath and I managed to move off without looking rude.

We found a love seat near the fireplace and I sat down with a sigh. “Maybe we should cancel,” Heath said after a minute of silence.

I’d been staring into the fire and I pulled my eyes away and pushed the smile back up. “It’s fine.
I’m
fine, Heath.”

He nodded. “Oh, I know you’re okay with it. But I’m not so sure about it.”

My smile became real and I rolled my eyes a little. Heath was just saying that to make me feel better. I reached out and took his hand. “We’ll go to dinner,” I told him. “We’ll meet the fiancée and see what’s up with her brother. It’s cool.”

Heath arched a skeptical eyebrow.

“I pinkie-swear I’m cool,” I insisted. If I said that a few times, maybe it would be true enough soon. “Let’s go to dinner, and hear what they have to say.”

Heath nodded. “It’s just a job, right?” he said.

“Yep. Just a job. And if at any point during dinner you think I’ll need reminding that it’s just a job, feel free to say something.”

“What’s just a job?” I heard a voice ask.

Looking up, I saw Gilley standing there nibbling on a puff pastry. “Hey!” I said. “Where’ve you been?”

“Seeing Michel off,” Gil said, adding a pout as he took a seat across from us. Michel was Gilley’s new boyfriend, whose mother is French, but his father is a Scot and so is Michel. We’d met him a few months earlier as we were wrapping up our final shoots for our cable show, and he’d proved very good with a handheld camera in some rather dicey situations.

“Seeing him off?” I said, sitting forward. “You didn’t break up with him, did you?” I liked Michel, not only because he was a lovely person, but also because he’d taken the annoying right out of Gilley. With Michel, Gil had lost fifteen pounds, smiled more, pouted and complained less, and was just a general delight to be around. Without Michel, Gilley’s charming company could be used by the CIA to extract information from terrorists.