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Allie whipped around to look where everyone was pointing, but all she saw was a big fat nothing.
Tom came up to stand beside her. “It’s like the damn Salem witch hunts.”
“You don’t see anything, either?”
He shook his head in disgust.
The wail of a police siren drowned out Allie’s next thoughts.
“It’s the pigs!” Phoebe yelled.
Allie almost expected her to take off running, but Phoebe, like the rest of the protestors, stood their ground as the Whispering Bay police cruiser cautiously made its way through the parking lot. The door opened and Zeke emerged.
Allie had to admit, she was both happy and a little anxious to see her big brother. Happy, because surely he was going to take care of this mess and anxious because he had his Allie-what-have-you-done-now face. Rusty had come along as well. He attempted to clear the crowd, but from what Allie could see, no one was bothering to listen to his orders.
Zeke came up and touched her arm in brotherly affection, a far cry from their usual kiss and hug, but there was a crowd present and he was here on official business so she didn’t take it personally. He whipped off his cop sunglasses. “Got a call there was a disturbance going on. What are all these people doing here?”
“They’re here to protest the senior center demolition,” Allie said, “but I swear to you, Zeke, I had nothing to do with this. We woke up a few minutes ago to find…all this,” she waved her arm through the air, “in the parking lot.”
Zeke scratched his chin in a deceptively pensive move that Allie swore he must have learned from some cop movie. “We?” His gaze zeroed in on Tom.
“Tom and I spent the night in the senior center hoping to make contact with the ghost. My idea. Not his,” she added quickly.
“The ghost?” Zeke laughed incredulously. “Let me get this straight, Donalan. My sister bamboozled you into spending the night here in the hopes of catching a ghost?”
“We weren’t trying to catch it, we were trying to make contact. I’m writing a story about it for Florida! magazine. Hasn’t Mimi told you any of this?”
To Allie’s surprise, Tom backed her up. “Allie’s just following up on a lead. It’s what any journalist would do. The building’s been vandalized a couple of times in the past month so I couldn’t let her stay here alone.”
“Not to throw kerosene on the fire,” Rusty interrupted, his face pale. “But I could have sworn I just saw something on top of that building.”
The three of them turned in unison. “Like what?” Zeke demanded.
“Like a vapor,” Rusty said. “A dancing vapor!”
Zeke shook his head like what the hell, but it was Rusty, right?
Phoebe Van Cleave, who was close enough to hear Rusty’s words, didn’t waste time capitalizing on them. “See!” she cried. “Even the fuzz sees the ghost!”
Excitement hummed through the parking lot as word spread. Was it possible there was really a ghost on top of the building and Allie just couldn’t see it? Or was the power of suggestion causing some kind of mass hysteria?
Zeke ignored the pumped up crowd and walked inside the building. Tom and Allie followed. It took her brother exactly two seconds to hone in on the lone mattress.
“Looks pretty damn cozy here.” Zeke turned his scary cop stare on Tom. “Do I need to ask what your intentions are toward my sister? Or should I save time and just beat the shit out of you instead?”
Allie punched her brother on the shoulder. Just enough to get his attention. “Oh for the love of—nothing happened, Zeke.”
Tom nudged her out of the way until both men stood eye to eye. “Look, Grant, whatever happened between Allie and me is none of your business. I need the premises cleared. So, I’d appreciate it if you did your job so I can do mine.”
It was like watching one of those old time westerns where the two gunslingers faced each other in the final showdown. Each of them waiting for the other to draw first.
Rusty came running in from the parking lot, his face flushed and his forehead covered in sweat. “Those Gray Flamingos say they ain’t leavin’ till the ghost tells them what they want to know. Something about the world coming to an end.”
Allie moaned.
Rusty took a handkerchief from his back pocket and mopped his brow. “Yeah, and that Van Cleave woman? Piece of work, that one. Says she’s gonna call a judge friend of hers from Panama City to keep the building from coming down until her Friendly Ghost Society can do a proper investigation.”
“That’s Sunshine Ghost Society,” Allie corrected.
