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“Like the little boy in The Sixth Sense?”
“No, he saw dead people, which would make him a medium. Which is exactly what you need. Only he’s fictional and you need someone real.”
“How do I find someone? I mean, I can’t very well advertise.” It was T-minus ten hours, which barely gave her enough time to do computer research let alone search for a reputable ghost expert.
“Aren’t you the Queen of Google?”
“You think I should do a Google search for ghost mediums?”
“Why not? The Internet knows everything, right? Hey, listen, Sean’s here. Gotta go!” Jen said, then hung up.
Allie stared at her blank computer screen. Jen had a point. What could it hurt to do a Google search? She typed “Ghost Mediums in North Florida” into the subject line. Immediately, several pages popped up. Allie scrolled through the links. There were numerous sites for ghost societies, ghost hunters, psychics, and even a group that claimed to sunbathe with ghosts.
Wouldn’t Tom Donalan just love to hear that one?
Who cared what Tom Donalan thought? And why was she thinking about him anyway? She had work to do. A vision of Tom in a loincloth suddenly popped into her head. This time, it wasn’t her stomach that threatened to rebel. It was her pulse that went up a notch.
Allie frowned. So what? Tom was delicious. She’d already acknowledged that last night. But looks weren’t everything. Thank God she was no longer attracted to him.
She went back to studying the links.
Now she had the opposite problem of just a few minutes ago. With so many potential sources to ask for help, where did she start? She clicked several of the links but without more information she was more confused than ever.
What if she called one of these places and they went to another media source? She could have her story ripped out right from under her. What she needed was someone she could trust. Or at least, someone who might share her interests. Maybe she should call Viola Pantini and ask if any of the Gray Flamingoes had gotten in contact about the anonymous email. She thought back to their meeting this morning and how Roger Van Cleave had reacted when she’d produced the email, and the way he’d been all ninja stealth-like when slipping her his phone number.
She dug in her purse to retrieve the paper and dialed his number. It immediately went to voice mail: “BOO! Thank you for calling The Sunshine Ghost Society. All of our investigators are currently busy, but your haunting is very important to us, so please leave a brief message and a number where we can reach you. And remember, ghosts are people, too.” This was followed by an eerie sounding cackle. “At least…they used to be.”
What? The Sunshine Ghost Society? Allie immediately hung up. She thought she’d been calling Roger. But it was no coincidence that the number he’d given her belonged to a ghost investigation group.
Allie checked the names of the groups from her Internet search. The Sunshine Ghost Society was one of the groups she’d put on her short list. Their website described them as a non-profit organization dedicated to the investigation of the paranormal. Allie had to admit, she rather liked the name. It sounded almost…friendly.
She thought about it a few minutes, then called again and got the same message. The voice on the phone sounded like a cross between Kathleen Turner and Harvey Fierstein.
She waited until the beep.
“Um, yes, this is Allison Grant. I’m a journalist for Florida! magazine and I got this number from Roger Van Cleave. I’d appreciate it if someone could give me a call back.” She gave her cell phone number then hung up.
She briefly thought about contacting one of the other groups from her Google list, but immediately eliminated that idea. She didn’t want anyone else stealing her scoop, so it was best not to get too many people involved. Hopefully someone from the Sunshine Ghost Society would call her back ASAP.
Next, she Googled the Margaret Handy Senior Center but, unlike her search for mediums, this one produced only a few links, all from the Whispering Bay Gazette, a local paper that used to come out daily, but now only printed once a week. She called their number and got a recording saying that their office was open till 1 pm. Since she couldn’t drive without breaking the law, she’d have to wait till Mimi got home and throw herself on her sister-in-law’s mercy. Thankfully, Allie didn’t have to wait too long.
“This is actually kind of fun,” Mimi said, backing out of the driveway.
“What? Playing chauffer to your husband’s ditzy little sister?”
“Investigating ghosts. Maybe you can give me a byline?”
“If this article lands me a permanent gig with Florida! then you’ll get more than a byline. What do you want? Champagne? Chocolate? Eternal baby-sitting duties?”
“I hardly need a babysitter anymore, but chocolate sounds pretty good right about now.”
“Doesn’t it?”
“You know what they say about chocolate, don’t you?”
“That it’s a substitute for sex?” Allie snorted. “In that case, I need a couple of crates.” She glanced at her sister-in-law. “Everything is cool between you and my brother, right?”
“Why do you ask?”
