Ghost in Trouble (2010)

Her dark brows drew down in a tight frown. “Will you either be here or not?”

“The two of us together would intimidate any man. Use your charm with Paul Fisher. I’m sure you have some.”

She shot a hostile look where I had been. “As Charlie Chan said, ‘Assistants should be seen, not heard.’” She strode toward the entrance.

I called after her, “So last century.” As she opened the door, I added sweetly, “Charlie also said, ‘Charming company turn lowly sandwich into rich banquet.’”

She looked back. “Touche.”

My intent was to pop directly to Paul Fisher’s office. I wanted to see him when he considered himself safe from observation. Private faces revealed character. Are the brows drawn in a frown? Is there sadness in the eyes? Does the expression show meanness or generosity?

I felt no need to hurry. Kay must first speak with the receptionist. I paused to enjoy once again the rasp of cicadas. When I was growing up in Oklahoma, we called them locusts. A biology teacher explained they were not locusts, but insects of another order. Whenever I heard cicadas, I felt even younger than my chosen age of twenty- seven. I was ten again and running barefoot through freshly cut grass with its distinctive scent, sunlight hot on my skin, living gloriously and heedlessly in what seemed to be the never-ending sun of summer.

“‘Mind, like parachute, only function when open.’” Wiggins’s voice was gruff. I might even describe his tone as anguished. “Bailey Ruth, when will you stop and think?”

Without taking time to reflect, I blurted, “Too much thinking is deleterious to mental health.”

His riposte bristled. “That’s not Charlie Chan.”

“Of course not.” Had I made that claim? “That’s Bailey Ruth Raeburn.” Possibly I had a future in some great salon of intellectual conversationalists.

“Umph. Not bad. But you’re distracting me from my point. If you hadn’t appeared in the gazebo, you wouldn’t have been seen by Diane Hume and now the fat’s in the fire.”

“It’s much too hot to picture a lump of fat sizzling in flames.”

“Bailey Ruth, focus on the matter at hand. You. Visible you. Contravening Precepts One, Three, and Four.” His voice rose and a splatting sound suggested fist hitting palm.

A girl walking a golden retriever stopped and looked around, seeking the source of the scolding voice. No one was visible in the parking lot. The teenage dogwalker’s gaze swept up, down, back, forth.

Wiggins and I hovered unseen about fifteen feet above the hot, still parking lot.

“Precept Six.” The exclamation seemed torn from Wiggins’s heart.

At the shout above her, the girl’s head jerked up. She gazed at sycamore limbs quivering in the breeze. With a squeal, the girl turned. Pigtails flying, she bolted up the sidewalk with the dog.

When the girl and dog were out of sight, and, of course, ear-shot, I tried for a light touch. “Don’t worry. She’ll probably decide she heard a car radio.” The street was empty of traffic.

“From an imaginary car? From an invisible car?” Wiggins’s volume increased with each word.

“These things happen.” I hoped he was in an accepting mood. “Dear Wiggins, don’t you always feel there’s a purpose? Perhaps that sweet girl will be led to a life of creative imagining. Why, this moment might mark the beginning of a career as a novelist. She may—”

“Bailey Ruth.”

“Apoplexy doesn’t become you, Wiggins.” I hoped I sounded more chiding than critical. Men are very sensitive. “Besides, quivering with distress isn’t good for you. Now, let’s talk about outcomes. Everything is happening as it should.” Sounding positive can have the most amazing effect in a combative situation. “If I hadn’t appeared in the gazebo, Kay would not have been forced to introduce me to Diane and I wouldn’t have been invited to stay at The Castle. I attributed the fortunate moment to you. You are always one step ahead of your emissaries, smoothing the path, foreseeing obstacles, creatively amending protocol when necessary. Even though becoming visible is anathema”—I was fervent and clearly in agreement—“to emissaries, sometimes we must appear in the world in order to discharge our duties. Since Kay’s safety is paramount, my visible presence at her side in The Castle will afford her great protection. Wiggins, you were brilliant to think of it!”

“Greater protection?”

“Absolutely.” I was almost there.

“I don’t recall thinking that at all.”

“Your mind is full of important duties! You can’t be expected to remember everything, certainly not a minor deviation from business as usual. I thank you for your trust.” My voice held a hug. “Kay thanks you. And now, to work.”

“Bailey Ruth!”

I chose to ignore his call. After all, Wiggins must surely applaud emissaries who hewed to duty despite impediments.

Paul Fisher’s office reflected a man comfortable with himself, an old oak desk, a couple of easy chairs with somewhat worn plaid upholstery. A black Lab rested on a window seat. I wondered how many clients felt less threatened by their legal troubles the minute they saw the silver-muzzled old dog, his adoring dark eyes fixed on his master. Fisher was lean and lanky. His angular face had a faintly quizzical expression. He was likely in his early sixties, tall, fit, and tanned with sun-bleached hair. “…expect to see you at the deposition next week.” He reached for a legal pad, made quick notes. “If that’s a firm offer, I’ll see what my client thinks. I’ll be back in touch.” He drew a box around a figure. “Sure, Rob. Maybe something can be worked out.” He hung up and punched his intercom. “I’m free, Martha. I’ll see Mrs. Clark now.” He reached up, smoothed his untidy hair, and stood. There was a youthful eagerness in his gaze.

Oh, of course. They’d met at dinner at The Castle.