She walked over to the counter and picked up a slip of paper. “Here. This.” She sighed. “I’d say get a bottle of wine, too, but I’m afraid I’d drink myself stinking drunk again at this point.”
“How about I promise to limit you to one glass?”
She loved his voice. Warm, tender, inviting. “That sounds like a plan.” She rose up to kiss him again, her stomach twisting, only in a good way this time. “Let’s see how tonight goes, and how I feel later. No promises. Okay?”
He pulled her to him and kissed her again, slowly, sweetly. She felt him harden against her through his slacks. “No rush. But that also sounds like a plan I can get behind.”
“Fucker lost his job a couple of weeks ago,” Sachi triumphantly announced ten minutes later after darting upstairs to find Mandaline in the warehouse.
“That didn’t take you long,” Mandaline said.
“Fired,” Sachi excitedly continued. “Rumor has it they caught him with his hands in the till, but the police weren’t involved. My guess is he found out you inherited everything from Julie, and he was looking to schmooze with you in hopes of getting back in your good graces and getting some money out of you.”
Mandaline sat on a box and stared at her. “Why wouldn’t he just go to his parents?”
Sachi let out a snort. “Seriously? You think he’s going to admit doing something like that to them?”
“True. And here I was hoping he’d had a change of heart.”
Sachi frowned. “Why the fuck would you hope that?”
Mandaline immediately realized why Sachi sounded so upset. “No, no. For the sake of his karma. Not because I have any desire to reconcile with the fucktacious twit.”
Sachi giggled. “Fucktacious. Wow. I’m stealing that one. I think I’m finally wearing off on you. I also seriously doubt there’s anything that can help Carl’s karma. Karma’s going to run right the hell over him and his mother’s dogma.”
“So who were your sources?”
She grinned. “I haf vays of makeng pipple talk.”
“No, seriously.”
“I read for a woman whose sister works over where he works. Worked,” she amended. “Said there was a huge blowup when it happened. Full outside audit of the books and everything. Rumor has it he has a set amount of time to pay everything back in full or they will prosecute.”
“That just doesn’t make sense. Carl was an idiot and a mommy’s boy, but he wasn’t a thief. Not when I knew him.”
“Well, she also told me that before he got shitcanned, maybe about a month, he went from driving a really nice Mercedes to a beater Toyota. Told everyone it got stolen and he was waiting on the insurance settlement to come through, but he didn’t want to talk about it when people asked for details.”
“The plot thickens.”
“Yep. More rumors speculated he’s racked up some pretty hefty gambling debts. They discounted drugs and alcohol simply because he still showed up for work, and his physical appearance didn’t change.”
“You missed your calling to be a cop.”
Sachi’s face darkened. “No, thank you,” she quietly said.
Mandaline blanched. “Sorry, hon.” She stood and stepped over to hug Sachi. “I wasn’t thinking when I said that. Thank you for the info. I really appreciate it. You done good.”
Sachi brightened a little. “Aw, shucks, ma’am. Just doin’ my job.” She snapped the brim of an invisible Stetson hat, hooked her thumbs in an invisible gun belt, and cowboy-waddled her way out of the warehouse.
Mandaline couldn’t help but smile. Sachi was such a mixed bag. She looked up to the ceiling and closed her eyes. Please, Goddess. She deserves happiness. She’s been through so much, done so much for others. Bless her karma with love and happiness in the best way possible, helping her and harming none.
She looked to where Sachi had disappeared through the doorway. “So mote it be,” she whispered.
Ellis returned from his errands a couple of hours later, just before they prepared to close the store for the night. He refused help schlepping the groceries and other items upstairs. Mandaline worked downstairs helping out and showing Brad their closing routine when the front doorbell tinkled.
She turned to find an elderly woman shakily tottering toward the front counter. Mandaline didn’t recognize her. She looked to be in her eighties, at least, her blue-grey hair permed. She wore pull-up jeans with an elastic waistband and a button-up shirt in a pattern that went out of style at least twenty years earlier.
“How can I help you, ma’am?” Mandaline asked, wishing she’d thought to lock the door behind the last customers to leave.
The woman smiled. “I read in the paper that y’all hunt ghosts.” She spoke with a thick Southern accent.
Mandaline forced herself to keep her smile painted on her face. She didn’t want to be rude to the woman. “Yes, we help people who think they’ve got paranormal activity.”
The woman put her hand flat on the counter, patting it as she spoke to emphasize her words. “My husband, Gerald. He’s coming to me. Every night. He died nearly a year ago. We were married over fifty years. Now, I keep telling him that enough is enough. I loved him, he loved me, but it’s time he moves on to Heaven.” She frowned. “I don’t think he’d go to Hell. He was a good man.” She smiled again. “I’d like you to tell him to move on.”
Mandaline blinked, unsure what to say. She didn’t honestly know if the woman was serious, or suffering dementia, or pulling her leg.
Brad stepped up beside Mandaline at the counter, a notepad in hand. “We can come out Wednesday night,” he brightly volunteered. “Just give me your name and address and information.”
The woman looked at Brad, her smile brightening even further. “Thank you, son.”
Her name was Marjorie Caswell and she lived over in Spring Hill. Once she left, Mandaline locked the door after her, turned the sign to Closed, and started pulling down the shades.
Brad walked over, his expression clouded. “Why do I get the impression you’re not happy with me?”
She let out a sigh. “Because, sweetie, I’m not. I would have rather you not volunteered us for tomorrow night.” She turned to look up at him.
“Are you mad at me?”
“No, I’m not mad.” She hugged him. “But next time, let me be the one to set the schedule. Okay?”
Truthfully, she didn’t want to handle any investigations right then. She’d only done Ellis and Brad’s house because Julie had marked it urgent. Fortunately, there were no other surprises in Julie’s personal appointment book.
She’d wanted to wait a couple of weeks, unless another urgent case came up and people felt in fear, to take on any more investigations.
“I’m sorry. I just wanted to help.”
“I know.” She rose up on her toes and brushed a kiss across his lips. “Help Sachi, please. I need to run upstairs for a minute.”
Truthfully, she wanted to see if Ellis needed any help. She found him with all the groceries unbagged on the counter and trying to figure out where to put them.
“Here,” she said. “Let me help.” She gently nudged him out of the way and started putting the groceries away.
“Thanks.” He gathered the plastic bags together. “Sorry.”
She turned. “Sorry? You bought all this. You don’t need to apologize to me.” She took a breath. “And, seriously, you don’t need to go with me Thursday. It’s fine. I don’t need help.”
He startled her when he grabbed her hand and spun her around.
“Why do I get the feeling that no matter what I do, I’m in a no-win situation with you?” Ellis quietly asked.