“Of course. It’s in the back. I’ll get it later. What were you going to do if he had been in it? Hang it up in youroffice?”
“Maybe.” Cherry’s eyes danced mischievously, then she glanced at her watch. “Time to go. I’ve got a hot class and have to turn on theheaters.”
“You’ve got hot flashes?” Maxine demanded in her growly voice. “And you’re going to turn on the heaters? That’s about the dumbestthing—”
“No, she’s got to teach a hotclassat the yoga studio,” Orbra said. “It’s done in a very hotroom.”
“I’ve always wanted to try doing those Yogi Berra things,” said Maxine, crumbs flying again. “I could probably put my foot behind my head, now that I got a newhip—”
“So about this ghost,” Iva said, closing her soft, wrinkled hand over Leslie’s as she shook with silent laughter. “Can I come over and walk through the house? I have a real sense for the otherworldly and metaphysical…maybe the ghost will show itself to me.” Her eyes danced with enthusiasm. “My medium told me I have thesensitivity.”
“Of course, feel free to stop by any time. I’ll show you around—it sounds as if you’ve been in the housebefore.”
“Yes, well, back when we were growingup—”
“What’s this about the ghost?” demanded Maxine. “Have you seen it, then,missy?”
“Don’t shout,” Juanita said, elbowing her companion. This was the first time she’d joined the conversation since the tray of scones and sandwiches had been delivered. She appeared to have sampled a bit of everything, if the remains on her dainty plate were any indication. “She’s just sitting across the table from you. And you’re talking about Shenstone House, aren’t you?” She directed her question toLeslie.
Apparently, the conversation was going to center around the so-far-nonexistent ghost, despite efforts to the contrary. So Leslie decided she might as well dive in. “Who is supposedly haunting the place anyway?” she asked. “I don’t know whether I’m supposed to be seeing a male or femaleghost.”
“Well, you do know the history of the house, don’t you?” Juanita pulled herself upright and, gripping a teacup between two sets of fingertips, fixed her eyes onLeslie.
“A little of it. I know it was built at the turn of the century, and that in the twenties, a rival of Al Capone’s used it for a hideaway from the cops in Chicago,” Lesliebegan.
“I know about all that,” interjected Maxine. “My mama used to tell me stories about during Prohibition. Those damned gangsters used to come over here from Chicago acrosst Lake Michigan to get away from the authorities. They’d bring their families and make like a vacation. Or their girls—you know the ones, the floozies with the short skirts and rolled garters. They even smoked cigarettes and drankwhiskey.”
“Oh, come now, Maxine. You like your Maker’s Mark just as much as anyone else I know,” Juanitasaid.
“I do, but I ain’t breaking the law drinkingit!”
“Yes, there were hideaways all along the west coast of Michigan, all the way up to Traverse City,” Juanita continued. “They probably used the Great Lakes to smuggle in booze too, from Canada. Didn’t even have to go all the way to Detroit—could just go right over past Sault Ste. Marie and through Lake Huron toOntario.”
“The name of the bootlegging gangster who owned Shenstone House was Sal ‘Red Eye’ Marciano,” Leslie continued. “And there’s a rumor he hid a bunch of jewels here in thearea.”
“That’s right!” Maxine jabbed her talon-finger at the table at large. “We used to sneak around that house, trying to find the hidden gems. Place was empty as often as it was lived in, you know—probably got a curse on it, now’t I think of it—and there was a time we sneaked inside too. Had a smoke, even. Never got caught,neither!”
“We never did either,” said Juanitasmugly.
Cherry and Orbra were laughing. “We sneaked in there too. But our generation was more interested in smoking pot and making out in the house than finding a cache ofjewels.”
Leslie looked around at the table in amazement. “Are you telling me youallwere sneaking into ShenstoneHouse?”
“Well, yes. An abandoned house, just far enough outside of town and in the woods to be secluded, but not so far away from everything so as to be scary…what do you think?” Cherrysaid.
“I never did,” Iva said primly. Her friends looked at her with disbelieving eyes. “Well, I didn’tsneak. Tommy Baxterberry had a key, and we used to go in there to makeout.”
“That’s because the people who was living there when you were hot to trot traveled to Europe all the time,” Maxine said. Then she wheeled her eyes toward Leslie. “And you never sneaked inside yourself, missy? You had to be the only generation what didn’t dothat.”
“I was only here for a few summers in my early teens, and none of the boys were very interesting. Besides, I think Mr. Mineera was living there at the time. He had bigdogs.”
“Ah, yes, that’ll do it,” Cherryreplied.
“Look! There he is!” Maxine fairly bolted out of her chair. “That has to be him!” She leveraged her walking stick to heave herself to her feet. “Right there on the corner! You shoulda been watching!” she screeched at Juanita, and almost lost her balance in the process. “We almost missed him. Not that you can see anythinganyway—”
“Who?Where?”
“It’s that Jeremy Fischer. See, the guy with the beard? It has to be him. He’s with Mildred and—Hey! Why does Aaron Underwhite get to meet him?” Maxine’s nose was pressed to the tea shopwindow.
