“You should practice.” The wraith moved behind his eyes, his lips almost blue in the shadows. “You don’t have much time before work.”
Shrinking back, I got to my feet and rolled my shoulders. I didn’t bother dusting off my pants. I would be rolling in the dirt again soon enough.
Cricket met me in the parking lot at HQ with a scowl pinned on her puckered mouth. Dressed in a black satin swing dress, this one with spiderweb lace overlaying the fabric, she looked like she’d stepped out of a funeral photo from the fifties. Her personal style clashed with the Southern belle shtick she pedaled, but she made it work. Skirts rustling in agitation, she crossed to me in neck-breaker stilettos. “You went to Sean Voorhees behind my back.”
“Sean Voorhees?” I echoed. “I’m not familiar with—”
“He owns River Street Steam. He’s my new partner for the haunted history cruises.”
“Oh.” So that was the name of Neely’s contact. “Since janitorial work is too light at the main office for both Dom and me, I thought I would check and see if he needed extra hands.”
The unlit cigarette stuck to her bottom lip gave a perilous wiggle. “You called a man up and asked for a job without first learning his name?”
Put that way, it did sound bad. “Yes?”
“You’ve got more balls than brains, hon.” She pursed her lips. “I could use a girl on the inside. I’m not saying Voorhees is swindling me, he quoted me a fair price for my share of the business, but the restorations we agreed on shouldn’t take half as long as he’s estimating. We need to get that boat back paddling water as soon as possible so we can cash in on the summer rush.”
Savannah was lousy with tourists during the summer, so the timing could be ideal. The guides would have a few months to tweak their presentations in front of small, captive audiences before peak season arrived. Not to mention being able to capitalize on the local buzz.
I linked my hands in front of me. “Are you saying I’ve got the job?”
“He called me to check your references.” Her blonde curls bounced as she shook her head. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but yeah. You got the job. Report to the dock. You can’t miss the Cora Ann. Introduce yourself to Voorhees, and he’ll tell you what needs doing.” She stabbed a black nail in my direction. “I expect weekly progress reports. You’ve got a cellphone. I’ve caught you and Amelie texting each other from across the room enough times to know that much. Use it to take pictures. Let me see what I’m paying for, all right?”
“I can do that.” I would have to run it past Neely first, though. I didn’t want to get him in trouble if I caught Voorhees mid-shenanigans. “Thanks for the opportunity.”
“Don’t thank me.” She rolled her unlit cigarette to the other side of her mouth. “Assigning you there won’t cause a staff shortage here if you vanish. That’s the only reason I’m giving you one last chance. Blow this, and you’re done. You’ll never work for me again.”
I reined in the impulse to keep from asking if I might climb the rungs back up to tour-guide status. She had agreed to let me work on the Cora Ann, and that was the closest to full-time employment as I was likely to find with my available hours. Plus, I had to admit, I was more than a little curious about the ghost boy.
The haunting must be an old one, or the papers would have splashed the story of recent tragedy across the pages complete with stomach-churning pics of his parents attempting to cope with his loss and sudden fame. What had riled a stable entity up to poltergeist levels? And could it also be to blame for the disappearance of the B&B ghost? Something hinky was afoot downtown. I might as well investigate while I was there, right?
“I won’t let you down,” I promised, backing toward Jolene.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” She spun on her spiky heel and clip-clopped into the building.
“I deserve that,” I mumbled as I mounted my bike and sped toward River Street. Jostling over the cobblestones while my teeth chattered was never my favorite thing, but it was worth it for the prime parking spots usually vacant this time of night.
I found the Cora Ann in the same spot as always, right off Rousakis Riverfront Plaza, her berth easy to spot from the street while shopping the vendors crowding the market. Two other steamboats docked behind her, the rest of Voorhees’s fleet, but the bustle surrounding the Cora Ann told me I was in the right spot.
A long metal walkway—a gangway?—stretched over the water and up through a gateway in the railing where several men and women hurried about on their own errands. Two older men stood apart from the chaos, carrying on a conversation while gesturing toward the wrought-iron railing circling the upper deck. I walked right up to them and smiled in the face of their bewilderment. “Hi. I’m Grier Woolworth.”
“Cricket send you?” the taller one, whose handlebar mustache tickled his jawline, asked. “You’ve the look of one of her girls.”
“Yes, she did.”
“Told you the old bat wouldn’t settle until she had eyes and ears onboard.” He belted out a hearty laugh the other man shared. “I’m Sean Voorhees.” He indicated the man standing beside him, who sported a rather impressive beard that frothed around his mouth in tight curls. “This is Captain Dale Murray.”
“It’s nice to meet you both.” I craned my neck to see what I was walking into, but Mr. Voorhees cleared the deck with an imperious sweep of his hand. “I’ll take you up to the dining room. You can help pull out the old carpet and padding.”
The dining room. Straight into the heart of the haunting. They must really want to spook me away.
“Wear a mask,” Captain Murray called as I was led away. “Water breeds mold.”
“We’ll provide you with a mask and gloves tonight,” Mr. Voorhees said, “but tomorrow I expect you to show with your own supplies. You might also want to invest in a chisel, a hammer, a Phillips screwdriver and a straight edge too. The work will go faster if you’re not waiting on someone to finish up with the tool you need, and I don’t have to tell you Cricket wants this done yesterday.”
“I can do that.” Though my unused debit card winced away from the cost of such supplies, minor as they were to me these days, I convinced myself I would be able to use them during Woolly’s renovations as well. And that was assuming I couldn’t find all I needed in the tool chest out in the garage. Gus, Maud’s driver, had kept all sorts of supplies out there. “I’ll get a list from one of my coworkers on the way out.”
“Good idea.” He sounded amused, like he never expected to see me again, as he led me into what must usually be an elegant dining room but now resembled a haunted house ride at a theme park. Wallpaper peeled in curling strips, sections of the floor revealed battered hardwood and steel beneath their carpet coverings, and one square of the ceiling exposed dangling wires. He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. “Klein vogeltje, I’ve got a new girl for you.”
A brunette about my age popped up from under one of the few remaining tables. Dirt smudged her cheek, and sweat glued her bangs to her forehead. A vibrant red birthmark covered her chin and lower jaw, spreading down her throat where it disappeared below the neck of her tee. “Why must you insist on embarrassing me in front of the new hires?”
“I do it to remind you you’ll always be my little bird.” A fond grin creased his cheeks as his eyes cut to me. “And to warn them who they’re working for, what the consequences will be for ruffling your feathers.” He shoved me forward as he stepped back. “Marit will set you to rights.”
“Thank you.” I drifted over to her as he strolled away. “Hi. I’m Grier.”
“Marit.” She held up her gloved hands in apology then jerked her chin in the direction her dad had gone. “Don’t let the old man get under your skin. He’s harmless, really.”