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Phoebe cleared her throat. “As I was saying, six is impossible. No, I’m afraid the two of you will have to sit this one out.”
“Phoebe,” Allie began, “I don’t think it’s fair to not include me when—”
“Here’s the bottom line,” Tom said, “This is my building. If the ghost doesn’t pick me and Allie, then I say to hell with the ghost. Go have your séance somewhere else.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Phoebe demanded.
“It means I’m responsible for whatever happens in this building so unless you agree to our presence, you can kiss your séance goodbye.”
“You’re not serious,” Phoebe sputtered.
“Oh believe me, he’s serious,” Allie said. “Insurance complications, and all that.”
Phoebe looked ready to spit. “It’s simply not possible. The ghost will never manifest himself if he doesn’t feel that everyone here is on his side.”
The door slammed shut again. A clean lemon smell crept through the air, jolting Allie into a heightened sense of awareness. And then it hit her. It wasn’t lemons at all. It was something else. Something comforting and warmly familiar. It was the smell of Jean Nate, the only cologne Buela had ever worn. Allie closed her eyes and tried to concentrate, but the smell was now gone.
“Did you smell that?” she asked.
“Smell what?” Phoebe said, staring at the closed door in disbelief.
“Lemons.”
“What is it with you and lemons? We have a ghost to concentrate on here.” Phoebe walked over to the door and placed her palm against the old wood then swayed back and forth like she was in a trance. After about a minute, she turned to face them with a wide smile on her face. “He’s here! He’s really here. And…for some reason, he doesn’t object to your presence at the séance.”
“How convenient,” Tom said.
“The ghost told you he didn’t object to us?” Allie said.
“Not in so many words, but I was able to feel it. Because as I’ve said, the ghost and I are—”
“Simpatico,” Allie finished.
“Exactly.”
Allie itched to wipe the smug expression off Phoebe’s face but she needed to be in the old bat’s good graces. Phoebe began to list off all the supplies they’d need for the séance.
“And of course we’ll tape it,” Phoebe finished. “I’ll put Roger in charge. He’s good at that sort of thing. Oh, and it’s imperative the table be sturdy. We can’t have one of those flimsy card tables with the wobbly legs.”
“No wobbly legs,” Allie said. “Anything else?”
“Just one more thing. After I leave here the building must be closed for the twenty four hour period before the séance. Absolutely no one must enter. The atmosphere must be as pure as possible. Any lingering negative vibrations and the ghost might not respond to Madame Gloria.” She seared them both one last time with her bug eyes before making a grand exit from the building.
“I don’t get it,” Allie said, “why doesn’t she like me?”
“She’s a kook. And she’s threatened by you.”
“By me?”
“Sure, you honed in on her little ghost business.”
“You have to admit the door thing was creepy. And the smell—”
“A random burst of air shut the door. The windows are all boarded up, so any lingering smells are going to be exaggerated. That’s all it was, Allie.”
“You really believe that?”
“Yeah, I do.”
