Page 71

“How’s the Deirdre situation?” I asked instead, hoping to change the subject.

Celeste groaned. “She took him back, of course. I give it three weeks before I get another 2 a.m. phone call.” A pause, and then her voice sharpened as she continued. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you steering me off the actual headline. The dead priest in your bar. Please tell me you’re letting the cops handle that.”

“I’m letting the cops handle that,” I said, which was technically a lie, since as far as I could tell, the cops weren’t handling much of anything.

“You’re using your reasonable voice,” Celeste replied. “You only use that voice when you’re about to do something stupid.”

“I’m not doing anything stupid.” Just talking to a ninety-year-old woman, I didn’t add. Lord knows how many opinions Celeste would have on the subject of my going to visit Meg Lindley. “I’m being careful.”

“‘Careful,’” she repeated, sounding utterly unconvinced. “Hey — I’ve got a gig Saturday, but I’m free after that. Let me come up and hang out. We never really did our girls’ day, and I want to lay eyes on you and make sure you’re not getting murdered in some haunted bar.”

A possibility closer to the truth than she knew. “Deal,” I said. “Come up Sunday. I’ll even spring for the good wine.”

“You’d better.” She paused there, then added in a very different tone, “Hey. Be careful for real, okay? I mean it.”

“I will,” I told her.

This time, I almost believed it.

Chapter 18

Treats and Tricks

Once again, I woke up too early, which was especially irritating because I knew I didn’t have to go to work today. Roz was having both Mason and Alix pick up shifts to cover the Halloween crowd, and Marco was going to do a special wine flight paired with Halloween candy that he was very excited about.

I knew the bar would be fine.

And I was ready as well, my pumpkins already carved and a big wooden bowl that I’d found in one of the kitchen cupboards filled with fun-size Snickers and Twix and Kit Kats waiting by the front door.

So what if I’d already sneaked a few of those candies? I figured I deserved it.

Hazel was in a mood all morning. Even though I hadn’t given her all the details of my plans, she knew enough, and she definitely didn’t approve.

In fact, she cornered me in the kitchen when I went in to refill my water glass. Maybe some people would argue that a ghost couldn’t corner anyone, that you could always walk right through them, but resorting to that sort of behavior seemed awfully rude.

“You need to wait, Lorelei,” she told me, hands on her hips. Today she was wearing a sort of persimmon orange twin set in a nod to the holiday, and warm, root beer–colored stones that I thought might be citrines glimmered from her ears and her fingers. No pumpkin pin, but I knew Hazel hadn’t been the type to indulge in holiday-themed costume jewelry. “You need to bring this to that Detective Ruiz. Give him what you have and let the police handle it.”

I set down my water glass and crossed my arms. “I don’t have any proof, Hazel,” I returned. “At least, none that he can act on. He’ll dismiss all of this as crazy theories, and Meg will probably hear about it through the grapevine in hours. Wes will know that Jude and I are coming, and then we’ll have nothing.”

Her eyes narrowed. “And if Wes is there when you show up?”

“Then I’ll leave.”

“What if he won’t let you leave?”

Jude had asked me almost the same thing, and I still didn’t have a good answer to that question.

Hazel took a step closer. “Lorelei.” Her voice was quiet but intense, the way it had sounded the week before when she’d tried to tell me what she knew about Father Frank’s burdens. “I love you, and I don’t want anything to happen to you. Please wait, and go to the police instead.”

Such simple words…words that my parents had always had a hard time saying to me. A pang of guilt went through me, and I wondered if this was a crazy idea after all.

But I knew that if I didn’t talk to Meg, if I let this opportunity slip away, then Father Frank might be trapped in the bar for the rest of his afterlife.

“I have to,” I said.

For a few seconds, she didn’t reply. I watched her press her lips together — some coral-ish color I didn’t recognize, not her usual Petal Pink lipstick — and then she said, “Then take Chauncey with you. He’ll know if something’s wrong before you do.”

Dogs did seem to have a sixth sense, but I still couldn’t see the wisdom in that plan.