Ghost at Work _a Bailey Ruth Mystery

His face was grim. “I’ll be back in touch, Mrs. Chatham.” He turned on his heel, began a slow, measured survey of the hall.

I wasn’t done with Irene Chatham. She might think she’d seen 249

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the last of me, but she hadn’t. We’d have a tete-a-tete she wouldn’t forget as soon as she left the parish hall. If, of course, I managed to elude Wiggins.

Now the rumble was deep and full-throated. “Bailey Ruth, I’ve reached the end of my patience. The Rescue Express is en route. You will board shortly.”

I held tight to the rim. “No.”

“No?” He was dumbfounded.

Was I the first emissary to mutiny? Was Purgatory my destination? I took a deep breath, tried to keep my voice steady. “I’ve not finished my job. And I have to say”—I felt the sting of tears down my cheeks and my voice wobbled—“I’ve never had anyone treat me this way. Give me a chance, Wiggins. Leave me alone. Stop looking over my shoulder every minute. I can handle everything by myself.”

“Oh.” He sounded chagrined, a kindhearted man daunted by the sniffles that indicate tears. “Possibly I have been too much here. After all, it’s your responsibility. Very well. Do your best.” He didn’t sound as if he had the faintest hope that I would manage with any success.

The chandelier swung.

I wiped my cheeks and felt liberated. No more Wiggins looking over my shoulder, frowning and grumping and harrumphing. I would be in charge. I would do very well by myself, thank you very much.

A drumroll sounded, da-dum, da-da, da-dum, da-da, da-dum. A trumpet blew. Lights blinked on and off.

At the base of the steps to the small stage, Marie Antoinette was impatiently adjusting a white-gold wig. A pirate—oh, it was Bayroo!—waved a sword aloft in time with the drums. She looked eager, excited, and, to Auntie Grand, absolutely lovely, Titian hair gleaming, fine features alive with delight. A sandy-haired boy in a blue pullover sweater and faded jeans grinned at her. Freckles splashed his angular face. He gave a thumbs-up. A towheaded Robin Hood thudded up the steps.

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Father Bill joined Robin Hood on the stage. For once, Father Bill didn’t look pressed or weary. His smile was bright and glad and proud.

From the audience, a peasant girl yelled, “Go, Jeffie.” Robin Hood flapped a big hand. He went to the mike, thunked it. “Sound on?” His voice reverberated. “Welcome to St. Mildred’s annual Spook Bash.”

The drummer pounded in a frenzy. Cheers rose.

Robin Hood grinned. “Thanks for coming and supporting the youth group outreach to Adelaide. I’m Jeff Jameson, youth group senior high president. We’ll begin our program with a prayer from Father Bill.”

Father Bill shook Jeff’s hand, then took the mike. He bowed his head and prayed in thanksgiving for the youth group and their hard work to raise money for the food pantry. Before he handed the mike back to Jeff, Father Bill grinned at the revelers. “How about a cheer for the youth group?”

The roar from the audience was almost equal to the welcome given to Adelaide’s Bobcats when they took the field on a Friday night.

Jeff took the mike. “Thanks, everyone. We’ve worked hard, but it’s been so much fun and now we have a wonderful turnout, so all the effort was worthwhile. This year’s Bash offers more fun and prizes and scary thrills than ever before. Most amazingly, we have a very special guest who’s come to help us make this the best Spook Bash ever. Everybody please welcome Travis Calhoun.” The lanky boy in jeans reached the platform, one hand held high in greeting.

Girls squealed and hugged one another. It reminded me of the bobby-soxer days when teenage girls swooned over Frank Sinatra.

Robin Hood gestured toward the trestle tables laden with pumpkins. “Travis has agreed to judge the painted- pumpkin faces and 251

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present the awards. He’s in Adelaide to visit his aunt and there’s a special story behind his appearance here. Lucinda Wilkie, middle school president, wants to tell us how she and Bayroo Abbott met Travis and invited him to join our party. Come on up, Lucinda.” He clapped. “And Bayroo.”

Marie Antoinette bustled onstage. Bayroo followed, but she looked surprised. She glanced from Robin Hood to Marie, a frown tugging at her face.

Marie Antoinette righted her wig, pushed her glasses higher on her nose, and stepped to the mike. “Everybody in the world knows Travis Calhoun—”

Lucinda was guilty of exaggeration. I’d never heard his name until she and Bayroo arrived on the rectory porch Thursday evening. Of course I had to remember that I was in the world, not of the world.

“—who stars in Show Me the Way, Emmy Award–winning TV

series now in its third season. Travis has the lead in a feature film, Gotcha Covered, to be released in November. He plays the role of a teenager who has to turn detective when his mom, a bank president, is kidnapped during a holdup. He’s here this afternoon to spend time with us and we want to thank Bayroo Abbott, who made this possible. Bayroo heard at Safeway that Travis was in town to visit his aunt and she wanted him to know we’d love to have him at the Spook Bash. His aunt lives across from the entrance to the nature preserve.” Lucinda pointed vaguely to her right. “Anyway, it was Thursday and just getting dark and kind of a spooky night.” She leaned close to the mike. Her wig tilted. She pushed it upright. “We decided we’d wait at each end of the block so we’d know when Travis got home and then we’d go up and introduce ourselves. There’s a busy parking lot next to the house and Bayroo wasn’t sure she’d see him because of cars coming in and out. She realized she’d have a better look at the house if she waited in the nature preserve.” Bayroo reached out, tugged at Lucinda’s puffy sleeve.