Page 54 of Ghost in the Cupboard

“They’re still over there,” Ginny said from her place by the window.

She’d been sneaking peeks out the front window of the diner all morning. The ghost that had been following me was right in front of her face, on the other side of the window, but she had no clue. I had been busy scooping Swedish meatballs, mashed potatoes, and buttery peas into to-go containers while she busied herself being a snoop.

“What?” I said, looking up from the prep table.

“The police,” Ginny whispered, as though they could hear us. “They’re still over at the inn.”

I shrugged, though I knew her attention was elsewhere.

“Could be anything,” I said nonchalantly.

“For hours?” Ginny was incredulous. “No. Unless…do you think there’s a gas leak we need to be worried about? No. Police don’t deal with that. Do they?”

“Have you seen the gas company vehicles?” I asked, slopping more food into containers.

Ginny didn’t answer me, but she didn’t have to respond. Obviously, I knew the answer.

After leaving The Eternity Inn the night before, I walked over to the Gas & Go. I asked Caleb to call the county police when he was ending his shift in the morning and report that he’d seen someone go into The Eternity Inn. No more. No less. He gave me a nod, asked no questions, and followed my directions. I knew he’d say nothing about me.

I was arriving at The Lunch Counter when the police finally came and bothered to check it out. I let Ginny get away with snooping all morning, feeding me information as the cops worked. At first, I was afraid that they would see the boarded-up front door and windows and simply ignore the tip. However, they’d found the bulkhead doors I’d left open at the back of the inn and investigated further. Within twenty minutes of the first cop car showing up, three more arrived, along with an ambulance and fire truck.

It been Grand Central Station all morning since.

“I wish we were closer!” Ginny moaned, sending a chill up my spine. “I can barely see anything.”

“How about you come over here and see about these meatballs,” I grumbled.

Ginny laughed, sighed, and pushed away from the window. The ghost outside continued to stare in at me. I ignored it as I always did. Ginny came and took my place at the stove to scoop portions as I stepped back to remove my apron.

“I don’t plan to be at Rhonda’s long today,” I said. “So, I shouldn’t be gone but a few minutes.”

Ginny looked at me for a few moments, and simply nodded. She didn’t ask any questions for once.

“I’ll be back,” I added, once I was certain she was going to mind her own business.

A minute later, I was on my way to Rhonda’s house with my coat on. I’d left my scarf at the shop since the day had proved not to be as windy or chilly as the one before. Still cold enough for an overcoat, but not nearly as cutting. The ghost floated behind me, haunting me, as I made my way to my typical weekday appointment with Rhonda.

When I got to her house, the ghost waited outside the front gate, as it usually did, and I let myself inside. Up on the porch, I took a deep breath and knocked on Rhonda’s door. As always, it took a few moments, but she finally found her way through her cavernous house to the door. Swinging it open, she was all smiles and screams as she tried to usher me inside. However, I didn’t step past the threshold this time.

When I didn’t move, she frowned at me, confused.

“Rhonda,” I said, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” she asked.

She stood in the open doorway, folding her arms around herself against the cold and looked at me with pleading eyes.

I shook my head.

“It’s obvious,” I said, “that Harlan is never going to show up for you. For me. And after thinking about it, I realize it’s wrong to keep taking your money every day and letting you have hope that he will one day allow himself to be summoned.”

“Are you—”

“I’m firing you as a client,” I said. “I’m sorry. But I can’t keep trying to coax Harlan into showing up here. He’s gone. Whatever that means. I can’t get him to come and talk to us. So, you should keep your money and we should stop wasting our time and hope.”

Rhonda didn’t cry. She didn’t plead with me. She seemed to accept what I said with a great sigh.

“All right,” she said, frowning.