Kevin obliged and topped off our glasses too. “This way to the dining room.”
The dining room was ready for visitors as well. It was beautiful with big rosewood tables, two large crystal chandeliers and green velvet drapes adorning the big windows that overlooked the beach. Plenty of local artwork hung on the walls, giving the room a nice, homey feel. Maybe that was because I knew some of the artists personally.
We picked out one of the big round tables, lit a tea candle in the middle of it and sat down. The room seemed very large and empty once we were all in our places. I had expected something different from Kevin. I’m not sure why. He was obviously very traditional, and this room suited him. If it had been mine, I would probably have painted the walls dark blue and tried to make it look like the bottom of the ocean. That was my nontraditional take on it.
“Okay. Everyone, hold hands,” Shayla whispered, probably trying not to echo in the room. “It’s very important to stay in your seat and not let go of the hands you’re holding.”
“Are you sure we should be doing this?” Trudy’s voice had a small squeak in it. “I mean, what if these people want to be left alone?”
“What are the chances? They were both murdered,” Nancy reminded her. “If someone kills me, I hope someone will have a séance. I’d want to tell who did it.”
I agreed with her. It would be nice to know for sure whether it was possible to contact the dead and ask important questions. Or in my case, to apologize to my mother for being an idiot. But I guess having an argument with me wasn’t enough angst to keep her hanging around. Murder, on the other hand, seemed likely to create ghosts.
“What do we do?” Tim asked. “What if we see something?”
“You let me do everything. Unless you see something. Then you ask questions.” Shayla smiled at Kevin, who sat to the right of her. Tim sat on her left side. Leave it to her to hold hands with both men.
With everything set up, Shayla bowed her head and called on the spirits to come forth. We waited around her with quickened breaths, staring into the darkness of the old dining room.
I wondered how many ghosts could be hanging around the Blue Whale. It had been here forever. There could be some flappers, a few pirates and an innkeeper or two waiting to have a conversation with us.
“Miss Elizabeth Simpson!” Shayla called out the name, and I jumped in surprise. Nancy squeezed my hand as though she understood. “Mister Johnny Simpson! We call on both of you to come out and tell us your secrets.”
I felt a cold draft go through the room. I glanced at Nancy to see if she felt it too, but her eyes were closed. Tim was looking around, squirming a little in his chair. Trudy was staring straight ahead as though she were afraid to look to either side.
Kevin was looking at Shayla when that chilly draft blew out the candle on the table. Trudy made a shrieking noise but didn’t let go of my hand. The room was in complete darkness now. My heart thudded uncomfortably in my chest as I wondered if I would finally see a real spirit.
There was a sound. I couldn’t identify what it was. It was like the wind sighing in the eaves when a storm comes up from the Atlantic. But something about it was unnatural. It was almost like a voice. I couldn’t make out what it was saying, but I felt sure it was someone trying to tell us something.
“Is that it?” Tim asked.
“Shh!” Shayla responded. “Someone is near. You’ll scare them away.”
“Is it Johnny?” Trudy wanted to know. She craned her neck to look around the room.
“You have to be quiet!” Shayla said again. “What’s wrong with you people?”
“I don’t think I see a ghost, but I do smell lasagna that needs to come out of the oven,” Kevin said. “Excuse me.”
When he broke contact with the group, I felt the tension in the room ease away. It was like fog melting in the sun. Or in this case, faith in the face of so many nonbelievers. My chance to see a ghost slid away as everyone started moving back from the table.
An image formed in my mind and I realized I was still holding Nancy’s hand. I could see something important she’d lost. It was a slip of daisy-covered Post-it that had fallen down between her desk and the old file cabinet beside it. She was worried about it. I sensed that the chief had asked her about it that afternoon and she’d lied to him. It was only a little lie. She didn’t have any idea what had happened to the note.
I started to reassure her as we all got up and headed for the kitchen, then I decided against it. As much as I wanted her to feel better, I thought it might be for the best if I didn’t tell her in front of everyone and embarrass her.
“Tim and Dae are in charge of salad,” Kevin announced once we reached the kitchen. “The bowls are in that cabinet. I have the lasagna. Nancy, can you get the bread? Shayla and Trudy, you guys take up the slack. Whatever else we need, you’re in charge.”
No surprise, we decided not to eat in the dining room. The area in the bar was smaller but also less drafty and devoid of strange feelings. All the food was great—I was especially impressed by Kevin’s lasagna. I complimented him on it, and he accepted with a grin. “It’s the only dinner food I know how to make. Breakfast, I have covered. I make the best French toast in the world. I haven’t worked on lunch yet, but I’m thinking I need more than grilled cheese sandwiches.”
“I’m sure you can find someone to work here in the summer,” I told him. “Winter help is a little harder to get. Only people who have been here awhile stay when it gets cold.”
“But I’m sure Kevin will be able to find lots of year-round help once he opens.” Trudy smiled and crinkled her pretty eyes at him. She didn’t cause those frown lines for just anyone.
“Thanks,” he said. “I hope all of you are suitably impressed enough to recommend me to the locals. I plan to pay a good salary too. With benefits.”
Shayla leaned against him (she’d managed to sit between Kevin and Tim again). “Don’t make it sound too appealing, sugar. I might give up my shop and come to work for you.”
Tim leaned his elbows on the table beside his empty lasagna plate. “Just how is it an ex-FBI agent came up with enough money to buy the Blue Whale and do all these renovations and still have enough to hire help?”
If Kevin noticed Tim’s irritated tone, he didn’t let on. “Not everyone in the FBI comes from poor families. My parents were very well-off. They left me a nice nest egg. It was one of the reasons I decided to get out.”
“But wasn’t it exciting?” Shayla asked. “All that cloak-and-dagger, spy rings and late night meetings in smoky nightclubs. It sounds sexy to me, baby.”
Kevin laughed. “As I was telling Dae, it gets old. I didn’t want to spend my whole life chasing bad guys. It’s a good game for someone right out of college. I like being an innkeeper. Bad paint and rotten wood are about as exciting as I want nowadays.”
“Not to mention dead men in your upstairs,” Nancy quipped. “Maybe you can leave the job, but it never really leaves you.”
“You might be right,” Kevin conceded. “I hope the dead man upstairs was the only thing left over from the previous owner. By the way, does anyone know anything about him? The previous owner, I mean. Bunk something, wasn’t it?”
Tim laughed. “Of course. That’s like asking if you can find your way from Corolla to Duck! Old Bunk Whitley is a legend in these parts. People say he bought the Blue Whale with smuggling money, like so many other people in this part of the world.”
“But people also say the pirate gold he claimed to have found is what did him in too,” I added. “Gramps swears the ghosts of the pirates came to get old Bunk. That’s why they never found his body.”