Page 24 of Ghost Walk
He didn’t look convinced by her quick denial. “I think your portable telephone is chiming?” It came out sounding like a question. Technology seemed to confuse Jamie. No doubt because the closest his time period had come to a global communications network was “one if by land, two if by sea.”
Grace ignored his confusion and went back to his earlier complaint. “Andof coursethe house has changed.” She told him, wanting to keep the conversation away from Robert. The morning was stressful enough without Jamie’s complaints about her lack of spirit and long rants full of Gaelic cursing. “It’s been two hundredyears. That’s what I’ve been trying to get through to you. It’s crazy to think we’re going to find anyevidence of Lucinda’s disappearance.”
“Nonsense. I have great faith in you.” He insisted with the stubborn mindset of someone who had no clue what forensic work really entailed. “TV shows always begin their investigation at the scene of the crime. We must do the same. Now, you promised me three days of investigation, so search for clues, woman.” He waved a hand around, like all she needed to do was whip out a Sherlock Holmes-sized magnifying glass and shout, “Elementary, my dear Watson!”
Grace shook her head in frustration. A couple of reruns ofCriminal Mindsand suddenly everyone thought they could do her job. No. Herex-job. “Fine. Whatever. But I’m only doing this to humor you, because we’re not going to find anything.”
“You’ve a very negative attitude, Grace. I prefer to live in hope.”
“You’re not living,at all.” Grace muttered, but she grudgingly refocused on their goal.
Lucinda Wentworth’s former home was owned by the Harrisonburg Historical Society, which gave tours every day at nine, twelve, and two. Since it was the only one of the murder victims’ houses opened to the public, it seemed like the best place to start. It was simple enough for Grace to join the group of morning tourists eager to see a Colonial era mansion. A lot of people worked for the town, so no one recognized her as an employee or asked why she was buying a ticket to a historic home on her (forced) day off.
Actually two tickets.
Grace had accidently bought one for Jamie, too, before it occurred to her that he wouldn’t need it. It seemed to simultaneously amuse and charm him, which was embarrassing. It was just hard to remember that he was a ghost. Not just because it was friggingimpossiblethat he was a ghost, but because Jamie seemed incredibly alive.
He was clever, and charming, and curious about everything. As a conversationalist, he was way better than Grace had ever been and he’d been dead for two-hundred plus years. When she wasn’t fascinated by some anecdote he wastelling, it kinda pissed her off. She was a social disaster these days, but Jamie could no doubt host his own talk show:Undead and Awesome.
“Bloody listen to this nonsense.” Jamie shook his head in dismay as the tour guide droned on about the furnishings. “This town must strive to hire the worst storytellers in Virginia.”
Grace slanted him a glare.
Jamie didn’t seem to notice. “We need to begin our investigation now, because I donea know how much longer I can endure this madness. The man has been talking for ten minutes about floor cloths. And thosearen’tthe Wentworths’ floor cloths. They look nothing like them! It’s like I’m in hell, only it’s boring.”
Grace felt the need to defend the poor guide from Harrisonburg’s biggest tour critic. “We’re visiting a historical house. What do you want him to talk about? The Super Bowl?”
Jamie wasn’t appeased by that logic. “And --Jesus, Mary, and Joseph-- why arefloor clothseven on this tour? Why would anyone waste a glorious summer morning looking at some old piece of canvas we used as a rug? Have you all so much time to spare that you can just squander it?” He sighed, like he was the only one in the room with any common sense. “Life is wasted on the mortals of this era.”
Grace wasn’t in the mood for a “my century is better than your century” debate. Not without even her customary four hours of sleep to bolster her. Grace never slept well. The dreams were too overwhelming. Last night, though, she’d just stayed awake, staring at her ceiling, panicked and full of doubt.
Not over the fact that she’d made a deal with a frigging ghost.
No, she was handling that part with surprising ease, all things considered. Jamie might befuddle her, but she wasn’t frightened or freaked out by his presence. Rivera DNA meant she accepted the supernatural far too easily. In fact, it was kind of almost a little bit …nice having someone around. Even if he was a jackass.
What terrified her was going back to work as a forensictech, even if it was just for a few days. The job had nearly broken her last time. She didn’t want to give it another chance. But unless she wanted to listen to Jamie whine for the rest of her life, she didn’t really have much of a choice. Grace had promised him three days and she kept her promises.
Also, she hated to admit it but atinypart of her believed him when he said he was innocent. Maybe she always had. That picture of him had been drawing her in since she was fifteen, after all. Something in his face convincing her that he hadn’t really killed those girls. Clearing his name was the right thing to do, for Jamie and the victims.
But that didn’t mean it was going to be easy.
“We need to ditch the rest of the tour and get upstairs.” She lowered her voice, hoping none of the tourists overheard her. Luckily, they now seemed enthralled with the original floorboards. “We have to look in Lucinda’s bedroom. That’s where she disappeared, so we need to start there.” She paused meaningfully. “I’m guessing you know where that is.”
“You’ve a prurient mind, Mistress Rivera. I like that in a lass.” Jamie glanced towards the stairs, which were through an archway behind them. “They’ve a velvet rope erected in front of the steps. You’ll need to get around it. Then I can lead you to her room.”
“Sneakaround it, you mean.” Grace could already feel her blood pressure rising at the idea. “I’m probably going to be arrested and thrown in jail for this. I hope you know that.”
“Oh, it’s not merely prison for an offense so grave as leaving a tour. T’would be the stocks for sure.” He smiled widely at the glower she flashed his way. “Oh, donea be so cantankerous. Just walk up the stairs as if you’ve every right to do it and all will be fine.”
“That’s aterribleidea.”
“No one will stop you if you seem confident. They’ll be too afraid of looking a fool if they question you. Always act as if you knowexactlywhat you’re doing and you can get away with anything. T’is the secret of life.”
“Yeah, that probably works great for attractive, pirate-y scoundrels, but --I guarantee-- it won’t work for a normalperson like me.”
His face brightened. “You think me attractive?”
“Oh shutup.” Grace eased towards the door, hoping to slip out of the room unnoticed. Instantly, it felt as if everybody was staring at her, even though she could see they were all focused on the guide. Grace’s grip tightened on her bag, her body barely moving.
