I held my breath, waiting for him to share his new project with me, just like old times. Instead, he said, “You and I are remarkably adept at dealing with fallout, aren’t we?”
“Except for one notable incident,” I reminded him.
“Except for one notable incident.” He studied my face. “So, what did you need to tell me? I can’t imagine you’d have more to talk about than what happened yesterday at Veronica’s. Although things do seem to happen a lot to people and things around you.”
I grinned. “You know me so well.”
He didn’t return my smile. “Yes. I do.”
Focusing on my coffee, I took a slow sip while I tried to compose myself. “Jolly had another one of her psychic experiences. She told Thomas that she saw the spirit of a girl who said, ‘The girl is in danger.’?”
“?‘The girl’? Not a name?”
I shook my head. “No. I guess it could be anyone—or no one, because it is Jolly—but she’s had weirdly accurate predictions before. I just want us to pay attention. I’m worried about Nola. She says that the ghost with the melted face is there to protect her—although she’s not sure from what. And then there’s Louisa. I smell her roses every day. Like she’s on alert.”
He nodded slowly. “I keep wondering what the ghost was trying to show Nola when we found her at the clock.” He reached for my laptop. “Maybe she’s been reading the treasure-hunting blogs. I figure if ghosts can make phone calls and send texts, then going online wouldn’t be beyond the realm of possibility, right?”
“Probably not, but help yourself. There’s been a lot of activity on all the treasure sites.”
He propped himself next to me against the headboard. “Go ahead and eat your doughnuts while I browse. I promise not to tell Nola.”
With a quick glance to make sure he wasn’t joking, I removed a doughnut from the bag and took a bite.
“Your Melanie self-improvement worksheet is looking a little sparse.”
“Please close that. It’s a work in progress. And private.”
“Sorry.” He clicked a button. “Wow—the college spreadsheet is pretty impressive. Have you shown it to Nola yet?”
I shook my head, then swallowed another bite of glazed doughnut. “No, because I’m not done. I need to add columns with all the deadlines for scores, applications, essays, and those kinds of things. Then she’ll be able to sort by date so that she doesn’t miss any deadline. And I’d also like to dress it up with fonts and shading.”
A shadow of a smile crossed Jack’s face. “How did we ever manage to get into college without modern technology?”
“Oh, I had a worksheet. I did it by hand in pencil. When I met a deadline, I’d make a huge check with a red marker. And I used highlighters in four different colors so that—”
“Thanks, Mellie. But that was a rhetorical question.” He closed the spreadsheet, then whistled. “You’ve got nine tabs open in your browser and all of them are treasure-hunting blogs.” His eyes met mine over the top of the computer. “You’ve been busy.”
“I’ve been bored just lying here and being forced to do nothing,” I said truthfully. “And since it involves us and our house, I want to know what people are saying. Which is nothing new, actually. Except that Blackbeard person keeps stirring the pot whenever the ongoing conversations begin to die down. He doesn’t mention me by name, but he—or she—claims that ‘someone close to the family’ is using their psychic abilities to speak with the ghost of Captain Vanderhorst regarding the location of the sultan’s diamond.”
“Do you think Blackbeard might be Marc’s online name? That would make sense—posting everywhere to get other people to do the hard part of researching the rumors for him.”
Jack raised his eyebrows. “Good thinking. That’s pretty much Marc’s MO. Wouldn’t surprise me at all.”
The sudden eruption of barking from three small dogs brought us both out of the bed and to the window, from where only a portion of the backyard was visible, so the dogs and whatever they were barking at were out of view. The dogs were being kept in the kitchen during the filming, and they were very obedient to Mrs. Houlihan, who fed them and took them outside to do their business. She would never allow them to bark uncontrollably.
“Something’s wrong.” I threw on my heavy bathrobe and fluffy slippers and headed toward the door.
“Stay here, Mellie. You’re supposed to rest in bed, remember?”
I pretended not to hear and hurried out of the room and down the stairs, Jack close behind me, nearly colliding with Mrs. Houlihan, who had just come in the front door. She wore her hat, coat, and gloves and carried her large pocketbook, which undoubtedly contained a stack of the romance novels she enjoyed reading in her off time.
“I guess the paperboy skipped our house this morning, because the newspaper wasn’t at the curb.”
I remembered what Beau had said about the door being opened for him and the nice lady telling him to go upstairs. And how the newspaper had been on the hall table. It had definitely not been Mrs. Houlihan who’d let him in, which left me with warm feelings about Beau’s knowing that Louisa Vanderhorst had welcomed his presence in our home.
The housekeeper looked at her watch. “I’m so sorry I’m late. Traffic was horrible on the Crosstown and I had to take my husband to work because his car is in the shop.”