lowered her voice as if someone might overhear. “I’ve seen what he can do. Dallas checked him out. I can’t explain what I saw, but I know it’s real.”
It stung that Pippin knew something she didn’t. “What did he do?”
Pippin shook her head. “You’ll have to ask Dallas. It’s kind of personal.” She laid a hand on Desi’s shoulder and looked her straight in the eye. “Give Buck a chance, okay? He’s a really nice man.” She grinned and her green eyes sparkled impishly. “Pretty easy on the eyes, too. He’s single, and I don’t think he has a girlfriend.”
Desi groaned, but she smiled, too.
“If Buck is a fake, Dallas will figure it out.”
“I know,” Desi said.
“So stop being angry.” She tapped Desi’s forehead. “It gives you wrinkles.”
“Fine. I’ll be nice.” She gave her a friend a quick hug. “But if we find out Buck is running a scam on us, he won’t have to worry about Dallas. He’ll have to worry about me.”
“I WISH YOU’D LET ME go to the meeting,” Gwen Hollyhock said wistfully.
Desi looked up from the computer screen in the back room of Hollyhock Antiques and Oddities. Clutching a stack of vintage magazines, her younger sister smiled hopefully. Bangles and charm bracelets jingled with her every movement. While Desi worked on the bookkeeping, Gwen was organizing merchandise, which for her consisted of shifting piles of stuff around. It took a few seconds for Desi’s mind to switch from reconciling accounts to realizing Gwen was talking about Rampart’s monthly team meeting.
Desi had refused to tell Gwen anything about the Moore house investigation. Dallas hadn’t yet published their findings on the public section of the Rampart Web site, so Gwen hadn’t been able to hear the EVP of the child’s laughter.
“I want to hear what you found in that old house. Every time I drive past it, I get a chill,” Gwen said. “I know you found something. You wouldn’t avoid me if it turned out to be creaky timbers or squirrels in the walls.”
Desi silently cursed Dallas, knowing he’d told Gwen about the Moore house. Desi had asked him countless times to not indulge Gwen’s morbid fascination with the paranormal. She had pleaded with him to keep his mouth shut. Gwen was the reason Desi had begun researching the paranormal in the first place. A man, however, would have to be deaf, blind and in a coma to resist Gwen’s charms. Dallas Stone was none of those.
“The meetings are members only,” she said.
She thought again of her “conversation” via the K2 meter and the EVP of child’s laughter. A chill crept from the small of her back, up her spine and to her skull. Nobody knew what caused electronic voice phenomena. There were great recordings collected by researchers all over the world, but thus far only hard-core believers and nuts claimed they were actually the voices of the dead.
“Besides, we didn’t find anything. The homeowners are sick. Physically sick. They’ve torn out walls, exposing mold, and there’s dust everywhere. The electrical is a mess. They’re stripping woodwork with toxic chemicals. Dallas told them to move out until they finish the renovations. Otherwise, they could end up with permanent health problems.”
She wondered how the blessing and casting-out ceremony went today. The Moores would be impressed, no doubt.
Gwen rolled her eyes. “I bet it is haunted.”
“You think everything is haunted.”
Gwen said, “Pfft. I’m looking forward to the day when you run across something you can’t explain.”
She wandered out of the back room.
Desi returned to the spreadsheet on the computer screen. January had been a slow month, and sales barely covered the store rent. Gwen made most of her money selling “haunted” objects on her Web site. It always appalled Desi how willing people were to plunk down money to own a piece of antique jewelry or a tattered old book reputed to harbor a ghost. What bothered Desi most was Gwen’s genuine belief that her treasures were haunted. It didn’t help that since Dallas had built Gwen’s Web site and maintained it the pair of them talked frequently.
At least Dallas had convinced Gwen to stop holding séances, playing with the Ouija board or otherwise attempting to summon spirits. For that Desi was deeply grateful.
She picked up a pile of envelopes. An overdue notice caught her attention. “Gwen!” She opened the notice, which was from the electric company.
Gwen peered warily around the doorway. “What?”
Desi waved the bill. “Do I have to start writing the checks, too?”
Gwen’s cheeks reddened. “I meant to tell you. I kind of overspent at the auction. And after I made a deposit, I sort of forgot about the bill.”
Desi glanced between the balance due and the figures on the screen. “There isn’t enough to cover it.”
Gwen sidled into the room, her skirt swaying and jewelry clinking. She had the decency to look embarrassed. “Could you help a girl out? I’ll pay you back. You know I will.”
Sure you will, Desi thought with a sigh. She hadn’t taken a payment for bookkeeping services from Gwen in over four months, and she no longer bothered keeping track of how much her sister owed her for these little loans.
The sisters had inherited small fortunes from their parents and grandmother. While Desi invested carefully and lived frugally, Gwen burned through her money as if she couldn’t get rid of it fast enough. Most of Gwen’s inheritance had gone to phony psychics.
“Fine.” The bell over the front door rang. “Go sell something. I’ll take care of this mess.”
Gwen turned away then stopped short. She spun around, dazzling Desi with a smile. “Quick,” she whispered. “Get over here so I can punch you in the face!”
“What?”
Gwen held up her hands, wrists together. “I want to get arrested.”
Chuckling over her sister’s goofiness, Desi went to the doorway and peered out. A police officer studied an antique player piano. He played his long fingers over the yellowed keys, not quite touching the ivory.
“God,” Gwen breathed. “Uniforms turn me on. He’s so cute!”
Desi’s heart leapt into her throat. No! No woo-woo freaks around Gwen.
She pushed past Gwen and marched up to the cop. She cleared her throat. “What the hell are you doing here?” She noticed his badge number was 333. Only half-evil, then. What a relief.
Officer Buck Walker stepped away from the piano. The aisle between the collection of old furniture and cabinets full of glassware and collectibles was narrow. He didn’t back up, so Desi did. She planted her fists on her hips.
“Hi,” he said, flashing her a smile.
Desi felt her sister crowding her.
