Nobody's Ghoul Read online

  Unfortunately for it, the seagulls noticed its escape. Four gulls swooped down, but the little crustacean waved its claws again, giving the tough guy act all he had.

  One seagull grabbed for him. The crab squatted, dug, and the next wave covered him up. When the wave pulled away, the crab was gone.

  “Nice getaway,” Jean noted. “That was just a crab right? Not something…” She wiggled her fingers.

  “Looked like a crab to me. Myra?”

  She frowned. “All the windows were rolled up.”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “The trunk?” she asked Jean.

  “Empty. No holes under it I could see. But maybe under the seats?”

  “So,” Ryder said wrapping his arm behind my back, his fingers catching the belt loop on my hip. “We’re thinking the car landed on top of the crab and it crawled up into it through a hole in the floor? That sounds likely.”

  None of us said anything because it did not sound likely.

  “So…we go after it?” Jean asked.

  “It’s gone,” Myra said, echoing my thoughts.

  “Okay,” she said. “What’s our story?”

  I leaned my head on Ryder’s shoulder for just a minute, then leaned away from him.

  His hand dragged across my low back, a gesture of such casual familiarity, my heart jumped.

  “We’re going with microburst,” I said. “Myra, you’re on phones and community outreach. Get Hatter and Shoe to explain things in person if anyone saw it and needs convincing.”

  She started up the beach. “Got it.”

  “Jean…”

  “Already ahead of you. Tow the vehicle so we can go over it for evidence.” She lifted her phone to her ear. “Hey, Frigg. You got a truck that can tow a muscle car stuck on the beach before high tide?”

  She turned north, laughing at something the goddess said in reply.

  “You want me to check in with the kite people down the beach or the houses up on the hill?” Ryder asked.

  “You’re not on duty today.”

  “I know.” The wind tossed his hair, stirring amber and gold into it.

  “Then, no, we’ve got this. Are you working your regular job?”

  “I’ll probably stop by the office. We have a couple projects on the hook. See if we can reel them in.”

  “You keep up this pace and every remodel and new build in town is going to be a Bailey special.”

  “That’s the plan. Think of all that sweet cash. We’re going to need it. For the wedding.” He moved in, closing the gap between us. “And the honeymoon.”

  His fingers pressed the side of my chin, moving my face up toward his so he could kiss me.

  And kiss me, he did.

  He tasted of coffee and burnt toast and sweet blackberry honey. He tasted like love.

  He tugged on my bottom lip, making me groan a little before he stepped back.

  “Go get ‘em Chief. If you need me, you know my number.” He turned and jogged up the beach, his long legs eating the distance, catching up with Myra to mooch a ride.

  I watched him for longer than I should.

  “Delaney?” Jean called.

  I reluctantly turned. “You got Frigg lined up?”

  “Yep. But you should see this.” Jean stood in front of the door I hadn’t closed, scanning the interior.

  I strolled over.

  “What?”

  She pointed. “Does that look like a shell to you?”

  I dug around in my jacket, and Jean handed me a pair of latex gloves without me asking.

  “This must have been what it spit out. You get a picture of it?” I asked.

  “Yep.”

  I leaned in, one hand on the seat, the other carefully plucking up the object.

  “Is it a crab claw?” Jean asked.

  “Looks like. It’s been chewed on.” I turned the claw which had an obvious chunk missing.

  “Crabby buddy was interrupted in the middle of a meal?” she asked.

  “I guess.” Crabs were scavengers and would eat anything. Including other crabs.

  But something told me that wasn’t the whole story. Something told me there was a lot more to this. The car, the crab, this claw.

  I just didn’t know what it was.

  Chapter Three

  I was running the make and model through the databases, and Myra was at her computer looking for any supernatural connection to the car that had fallen out of the sky earlier today.

  It was just the two of us in the station, and the quiet was a nice change. Good weather, especially early in summer, drew people outdoors and away from calling the station complaining about things like missing welcome mats and X-rated chalk art.

  My phone rang. I picked it up without looking at the screen.

  “Chief Reed.”

  “Delaney, how delightful you finally answered your phone,” the only Valkyrie in town said.

  My eyes went wide, and I wondered if I could get away with “fumbling” the phone and “accidentally” hanging up on her.

  “Hey, Bertie.” I pitched my words toward Myra who ignored me. “Sorry about missing your calls. It’s just been so busy.”

  I pulled a yellow pad out of my desk drawer and wrote HELP ME in big block letters on it.

  “Has it?” she pressed.

  Any answer I gave her was a trap.

  I covered the phone with my palm. “What’s that, Myra?” I threw my pencil at Myra. It hit her shoulder, and she finally looked away from her screen.

  I waved the pad at her and mouthed please.

  Myra just shook her head at me like I was being childish and went back to her work.

  The big meanie.

  “No, Myra,” I said. “You’re not getting that time off you wanted because we are so busy here.”

  Myra flipped me the bird without looking up.

  “Sorry about the interruption,” I said to Bertie. “Where were we?”

  “I do not have an assistant.”

  “Oh-kay?”

  “This season I will be three times as busy as usual. But I do not have an assistant. I have a standard to uphold. I alone deal with every detail of every event. Did you know that, Delaney?”

  “Yes?”

  “Did you know my time is not limitless? There are only so many ‘missed calls’ I will tolerate.”

  Crap. She was angry. I opened my mouth to give her a real apology, but she cut me off.

  “I need you to do something for me.”

  Oh, gods. This was what I’d been avoiding. Bertie was in charge of all the community events, festivals, and fundraisers. She’d been doing it almost longer than Ordinary had had its name. She always needed volunteers.

  “I have been busy. I’m not sure how much help I can be, other than what we usually sign up for.”

  I always helped with the events. The whole department worked to keep an eye on crowds, help lost kids find their parents, make sure no out-of-towner was stomping through someone’s flower beds. We handled fender benders, traffic management, de-escalated arguments before fights could break out.

  Saturday’s festival was coming up fast. Flyers plastered every window and bulletin board in Ordinary. Colorful flags and banners had been pulled from storage and installed in front of shops. Flowers were planted, watered and trimmed. The big event was pulling together without a hitch as far as I could tell.

  “As you well know,” Bertie went on, as if we’d just started the conversation, “we have a very important festival this weekend. It begins Saturday.”

  “Yes.”

  “Saturday is day after tomorrow.”

  “I’m aware.”

  “Are you also aware the Ordinary Show Off is an event residents mark on their calendar months in advance?”

  To avoid, I mentally noted. “Yep. Yes. Talent show. It’s on my calendar too.”

  To avoid.

  “It is much more than a talent show, Delaney Reed. It is a chance for everyone to come together and reac
quaint themselves. It is vital. Lifeblood. If anything were to stop it, Ordinary would be a shell of itself, gasping for air.”

  “I don’t think Ordinary needs CPR, Bertie.”

  “Of course it doesn’t. We have the talent show for that.”

  “Is this about Boring?”

  Bertie had always been a bit militant about Ordinary’s events. But ever since she’d found out her sister Valkyrie, Robyn, had nested in Boring and was going directly head-to-head with Bertie for the tourist dollars by throwing identical festivals at identical times, Bertie had been a little extra-extra.

  “This is about a favor I need from you,” she snapped.

  Okay. Boring was a touchy subject. “I can’t.”

  “You haven’t heard what I want.”

  “But I know it’s a talent show. I can’t. I won’t.”

  “Being crowned this year’s Ordinary Show Off is a great honor.”

  “Didn’t Phil Lambert win the last two years?”

  “He was a crowd favorite. Of course he won.”

  “He played the “Ride of the Valkyries” with armpit farts.”

  I could hear her inhale through her nose, as if she were trying very hard not to shout at me.

  “The year before that it was armpit-fart “The Blue Danube” wasn’t it?”

  “No,” she said through her teeth. “It was Vivaldi.”

  What could I say? Ordinary liked weird stuff. Like big sweaty bald guys armpit farting the classics.

  “Three wins in a row would be very unlikely,” Bertie said. “Unless you are suggesting our current Ordinary Show Off hasn’t earned his crown?”

  “No. No. Phil’s great. I just can’t.”

  “Can’t what? I haven’t asked for my favor yet.”

  Bertie was right. The events she put on were important. They kept us together, created our traditions. They let the outgoing among us thrive and tempted the hermits to join in.

  It was good. The talent show was cheesy as all heck, but it was good.

  However, the idea of me standing on that stage doing anything in front of all those people had me sweating hard.

  “Delaney?”

  “I can’t be an Ordinary Show Off.”

  Bertie’s sigh was long-suffering. “I wouldn’t ask you to. You don’t have any talent. Not a single dramatic bone in your body.”

  “Hey, I can do stuff.”

  Myra snorted and clicked away at her keyboard. I threw another pencil at her. She didn’t even move.

  “You want to perform in front of the entire town?” Bertie asked, scenting blood on the battlefield.

  “No.”

  “Then what makes you think I would force you to do something you abhor?”

  “What about the rhubarb, Bertie? Do you remember the rhubarb? Because I still have nightmares about the rhubarb.”

  “I stand corrected,” she said dryly. “You do have a dramatic bone in your body.”

  “Myra can ride a unicycle,” I said sweetly.

  Myra stopped typing. Her head swiveled slowly toward me, her eyes hard.

  “I know what Myra can do. I want you to tell Ryder he should participate.”

  “Ryder?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ryder Bailey?”

  “Yes.”

  “You want Ryder to get up on stage and be a Show Off?”

  “Is there something wrong with your hearing?”

  “No, it’s just….What do you think Ryder’s going to do?”

  “I’ve seen his art. I believe he took piano lessons when he was young.”

  “Oh, gods.” I had forgotten that. “You want him to play piano?”

  “I want him to be the last person on stage before the judging. What he decides to do doesn’t matter to me. I’m sure he’ll come up with something wonderful. Encourage him to accept my invitation.”

  It should have sounded like she wanted me to just give him a friendly nudge.

  But I knew this was a threat.

  “I don’t know, Bertie. He’s been really busy too.”

  “Planning the wedding, yes, I know. The community center is open third Thursday next month, two Fridays the month after, possibly half a Sunday. All the other dates after that are booking up fast.”

  “Uh...”

  “You have chosen a date, haven’t you? And a venue?”

  “Um...”

  “I can’t keep the calendar open indefinitely, Delaney. If Ordinary is to remain the queen’s jewel of small-town festival destinations in Oregon, then every date has to be leveraged for optimal impact.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “See that you do. Now, I have an appointment I can’t miss.”

  “Wait, before you go. Did you hear about the car falling out of the sky?”

  “I saw it when I was coming back from my second walk of the morning.”

  “Overachiever.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Do you know anything about the car? Did you see anything odd?”

  “Other than the sky broke open, caught on fire, and time stopped?”

  So sassy.

  “Other than that, yes.”

  “No.”

  “A crab crawled out of it.”

  The silence was very judgey. I didn’t know how she managed to do that over the phone.

  “Is that all, Delaney?” The words were an ice floe.

  “Yep. Yes. That’s it. That’s all. You have a good day, Ber—”

  The call disconnected.

  I thumbed off the screen then threw three more pencils at Myra. “Thanks for nothing.”

  “If you can’t handle the Valkyrie, stay off of the battlefield,” she said mildly.

  I dropped my head on my desk, thunking my forehead.

  “Why. Me?” I whined to the scratched wood.

  “You don’t have to be here,” Myra said for the seventh time since I’d come into work. “I told you to stay home. It’s your day off.”

  I fake screamed with my mouth open, but no sound came out. It didn’t make me feel any better, so I rolled my head, pressing my cheek against the desk.

  The wood was cool, and everything looked sort of fun-housey from this angle.

  “I have work to do.” I stretched and pushed the stapler to the edge of the desk, straightening the base with my finger until it lined up perfectly.

  “Uh-huh.” Myra was back to typing again, the clickity clack loud in the quiet station.

  “Any luck on the car?” I asked.

  “Nope.” She kept right on typing.

  “Are you on one of those secret auction sites that sells old magic stuff?”

  “No. I don’t look for magic items at work. Also, nothing good has shown up on those sites in months.”

  “Think we could get some money for a car that fell out of the sky once?”

  “Nope.”

  I lifted my head a little to try and see more of her screen.

  “Bertie wants Ryder to be in the talent show.”

  “I heard.”

  “She remembered he used to play piano.”

  Myra tipped her chin up just a bit and took a deep breath. “Okay, we’re doing this now?”

  “Doing what now?”

  “Moping about the wedding.”

  “I don’t mope.”

  She tapped her mouse a few times, then pulled on the bottom drawer of her desk and lifted a paperback out of it. “Fine. Since you’re going to be like this, I’m taking a break.”

  She opened the book and leaned back in her chair.

  “I thought you liked reading on your E-reader.”

  She didn’t lift her eyes, but she pointed at the device on her desk with the cord plugged in and charging. “This is my back up.” She jiggled the book. “Which I need today because the reader is charging. You know what back up I don’t need today?”

  Now her gaze flicked up, and the blue, lighter than mine, held me pinned. “Any idea what back up I don’t need today, Delaney? Any ide
a at all who I might not need around here,” she spun her finger in the air, “interrupting me all day when they aren’t even supposed to be working today?”

  “I don’t want to leave you short-handed if there’s another emergency.”

  “If there were another emergency, you know I’d call you. We’ve been working together for years. You know this. So why are you really here?”

  I shrugged.

  She shook her head and went back to reading.

  I tried to stay quiet, really I did, but it felt like I had electricity popping under my skin. I was on edge, wishing there was something I could do to settle my nerves, but I didn’t even know why I was so jumpy.

  Okay, that was a lie. I was jumpy because a fricking car had just fallen out of the sky.

  My wedding was coming up, maybe, probably, if we picked a date. But—and for reasons I couldn’t fathom—I was dragging my feet. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Myra licked a finger and turned the page. Loudly. Like maybe she was hoping I would get the hint.

  I would not get the hint.

  “I know I should be happy. I love Ryder. I want to be with him. Spend my life with him, but everything feels wrong.”

  She closed her eyes and tipped her head down for a minute before gamely lifting her head again and going back to reading.

  “I don’t know why I feel like this.”

  The muscle at her jaw tightened.

  “What should I do?”

  “Go home.” She glared at me, waited a second, then went back to her book. “I will call if I need you.” She lifted her mug of tea that smelled of lavender and orange and took a sip.

  “I just…wish I could figure out the mess in my head. I keep thinking in circles. Some of it is the car falling out of the sky. Some is that we now have three demons living in Ordinary.

  “I know they’re hiding from the King of demons. But they signed our contract. Just because they had a hard past, doesn’t mean I can turn them away when they’re seeking asylum.”

  She sighed. “Delaney.”

  “Do you remember Bathin’s brother showing up when Ryder proposed to me?”

  She licked her finger one more time, turned the page, then placed a red silk ribbon down the center of the book, leaving part of it hanging over the spine.

  “Okay, now we’re doing this?”

  “Doing what?”

  She turned her chair and faced me. “You are avoiding working on the falling car situation, while avoiding planning your upcoming wedding situation by thinking about our demon situation. And the question you’re asking me is if I remember Bathin’s brother appearing out of thin air during your engagement and stabbing Bathin with a sword while I was standing there beside him?”