“That was just a movie,” Hawke pooh-poohed. “Besides, that was about devil possession, not a ghost parasite.”
I smiled with my big clown smile again. “Was it?”
Hawke recoiled at whatever he saw on my face.
“That’s enough terrorizing for tonight, Madam Medium.” Doc draped his arm over my shoulders, leading me toward the glass doors. “Remember,” he said in my ear, “No matter what you see on the video, stay cool and be vague. Detective Hawke will be watching you, looking for anything that proves you to be a fake in his eyes.”
“But I am a fake,” I whispered back.
“Not really. I think you have more supernatural abilities in your pinkie than most of us do in our whole body.” He kissed my temple and then stepped forward and held the door for me.
A tall police officer with a blunt chin opened one of the bank doors for us. I led the way inside, noticing the smell of fresh dirt in the air from the plants that had been knocked over. Doc followed, sniffing. Was he picking up a ghost? Or could he actually smell the imp? Raised brows aimed his way earned me a quick “No” shake of the head.
The cop ushered the way into a back room before I could introduce Doc or myself to him.
“Spooky Parker is here,” he told a guy wearing a patch with “Security” sewn on it over his left breast pocket.
Spooky Parker? I frowned at Doc.
He tweaked my chin. “It appears your reputation precedes you, Short Medium.”
I gave him a brief smile at his play on the nickname Cornelius usually used for him. “Yeah, and that has me a little worried from the get-go.”
“You can do this.” He kissed my forehead, and then he looked at the cop who’d let us in the bank door. “I’ll be right back. Don’t start the show without me.” Doc walked over to the cop, saying something I couldn’t hear that won him an easy smile from the officer.
That left me alone with the security guard. “Hi, uh …” I glanced at the tag pinned on his shirt and read, “Bill. I’m Violet Parker.” Not Spooky Parker. “That guy over there is Doc Nyce.”
Bill appeared to be about Harvey’s age, maybe older. His white hair was thin on top but thick at his ears. His shoulders stooped a little, but the rest of him looked fit as a fiddle. His white moustache twitched at the ends as he looked me over.
He leaned closer, smelling like minty cologne, and lowered his voice. “I’ve heard all about you, Sparky.”
Sparky! Uh-oh. Heard what? From whom? This could go either way for me. “You have?”
His pale-green eyes reflected the half-wall full of video screens behind me. “Word on the street is that you’re making an honest man out of Willis Harvey.”
If my eyebrows shot any higher, they’d have busted through the ceiling. “Come again?” Getting married to Harvey? I was already hitched to a dead old guy, thanks to my sister. Harvey would have to get in line.
Bill wheezed. “Old Willis is quite a catch. He’s made it all of these years without getting locked into a double yoke.” He shrugged. “But you are quite a whippersnapper, according to the ladies down at the senior center. It’s no wonder you stole the Mongoose’s heart. Although some of them windbags think that Harvey’s nephew is the big fish you’re really trying to hook.”
Cooper? “They do?”
“Yep. But if that’s true, you’d better be careful. If he’s anything like those TV detectives, they tend to go sour in the head what with all of the pressure put on them to solve crimes.” Doc joined us about that time, drawing Bill’s gaze. “So who’s this doctor of yours? You travel with your own physician?”
“Sure.” I chuckled at the absurdity of what I’d heard was being spread over at gossip central. Patting Doc on the chest, I played along. “This here’s my gynecologist.”
Bill’s eyes widened. “No kidding?”
“Uh, Violet?” Doc sounded like his throat was squeezing his vocal chords.
“I’m just joshing you, Bill.” I put my hand beside my mouth and whispered, “This big fish here is my lover. Tell those gals at the senior center that Ol’ Man Harvey refused my offer of marriage and broke my heart. But before I landed in the gutter with nothing more than a bottle of tequila to keep me company, Doc Nyce here came along and swept me off my feet.”
“He did, huh?” Bill eyed Doc from head to toe. “Yep, he’s a biggun’ all right, that’s for sure.”
“He sure is.” I gave Doc a saucy wink. “Now, Bill, back to business. Detective Hawke wants me to take a look at the tape from earlier tonight. He thinks you might have a ghost on your hands.”
Bill’s grin flipped into a worried frown. “It sure appears that way.” He leaned over the computer keyboard and punched a couple of keys. “Here,” he said, pointing at one of the lower screens. “See for yourself.”
Cooper and Hawke joined us as the video started playing. Hawke hovered beside me, both feet in my personal space, as usual, while I leaned down to watch the screen. I resisted the urge to shove him away and focused on the video.
The feed was a little grainy, the scene in monochrome only. I watched for several seconds as nothing happened. Then a pile of papers flew off the corner of a desk in the lower right part of the screen.
I bent closer, squinting as the small, raisin-skinned imp who’d thrown its candy at my windshield ran across the screen and leapt up on the bank teller counter. It lifted a bottle to its lips—a wine bottle from the looks of it—and tipped it back all of the way, guzzling
