Ghost Gone Wild (A Bailey Ruth Ghost Novel) by Carolyn Hart Read Free Book Online Page B

Nobody will dare touch you.”
    “You’ve got to be kidding.” He gave a kind of snicker.
    “I am not kidding.”
    He made a sound between a moan and a snort. “You look about as much like a private eye as a belly dancer resembles a bishop.”
    My eyes slitted. “Are you sexist? Why couldn’t a belly dancer become a bishop?”
    His mouth opened, closed. He took a breath. “I’m not touching that one, lady.”
    “But you are going to cooperate with me.” I tried to maintain a pleasant tone. “Unless you want an unexplained female voice reporting the shooting.” I grabbed the cell from his hand, punched 911.
    With a yelp, he grabbed it back, lifted it. With a gulp, he muttered, “Nick Magruder here.” His glare at me was malevolent. “Nick Magruder. Eight nineteen Mulberry Lane. Somebody shot a rifle through my front window. Nobody’s hurt, but there’s a slug in the wall. Yeah, I’ll be here.” He clicked off the phone. “A patrol car’s on the way.”
    “Which side of town are you on?”
    He gave a strangled moan. “You’re going to pretend like you’re a private eye, and you don’t even know where you are?”
    “Aunt Dee”—my tone was icy—“didn’t share much information.”
    He squeezed his face as if his head hurt. “Aunt Dee. Do I believe you? Actually, there’s something screwy here. Tomorrow I’m going to find out all about you and get you out of my hair.”
    “Tonight comes before tomorrow.” I paused to contemplate my observation. Perhaps stress made me even more lucid than usual. “Tonight,” I spoke with emphasis, “comes before tomorrow.”
    “You already said that.”
    I felt in top form. “It was worth repeating.” Such an apposite observation deserved to become a maxim. Possibly after he knew me better, he would appreciate shared wisdom. “Tonight I am here. You don’t want me here. But here I stay until you agree to my plan. I need transportation and funding.”
    From his expression, he would have enjoyed tossing me into a deep pit.
    I held out my hand. He was seriously rich, and if he didn’t want to be seriously compromised by my presence, he would ante up.
    “Okay. You win. For now.” He shoved a hand in the pocket of his jeans, shook his head. He stalked to the desk.
    I was right behind him.
    He pulled out the center drawer. Keys slid toward us. I reached in and grabbed a small pad with a hotel logo and the single pen. Obviously, he didn’t use the desk for work.
    Nick picked up the scooter key, plopped it in my hand. From his back pocket, he retrieved his billfold. He flipped it open, plucked out a bunch of bills, thrust them at me.
    I counted aloud. “Six hundred dollars. I’ll keep a meticulous count of expenses. I’ll need clothes, of course. Oh, rummage around and find a suitcase.”
    “There aren’t any clothes here.” He looked abruptly mulish. “You can’t have any of mine.”
    “Why would I want your clothes?” I found his thought processes puzzling.
    “I don’t know. Why do you want a suitcase?”
    “When I arrive at the B and B, it will look odd if I don’t have a suitcase.”
    “You’re going to look odd anyway, arriving on a motor scooter. Are you going to pretend you drove up here from Dallas on the scooter? Yeah, Dallas private eyes go everywhere on scooters.”
    I remained unruffled. “There may be a few flaws in my plan, but it gets me out of here.”
    “You just said the magic words.” He dashed across the room, banged open a door, disappeared from view. In a moment, he was back with a canvas duffel bag. “It’ll fit better on the back of the scooter.”
    The bag appeared to be full.
    “I stuffed in a couple of pillows so it looks like you’ve got stuff.” He glanced at his watch. “The cops will be here in a jiffy. You need to get out of here. Now.” He strode to the door, flung it open. “The B and B’s at the corner of Elm and Buffalo. I’ll call Arlene as soon as you leave.”
    I felt a bit pressed for time