Jaw moving against a wad of nicotine gum, he steered the station wagon where indicated. “Let’s just go over this again, can we? Cheryl’s ghost is haunting the room she died in?”
“Yes.”
“And she can’t move on until she says something to me?”
“Apparently.” It hadn’t taken much effort to persuade him that it was possible. For all that he reminded her of processed cheese slices, he had a weirdly egocentric view of his place in the world.
“You think she wants to apologize?” The car slid to a stop, more-or-less in front of the right room.
“I honestly don’t know,” Claire told him, slamming her shoulder against the passenger side door and forcing it open. “Why don’t we go inside and find out?”
While Claire’d been gone, the room had been redecorated in early playing cards. Most of them were just lying around, but several had been driven into the ceiling’s acoustic tiles.
“What happened?”
Dean nodded toward the ghost and mouthed the word, “Boom!”
Brows drawn in, Cheryl folded her arms. “We were playing a little rummy to pass the time, but he cheats!”
“Dean? I doubt that. He spent six months living next to a hole to Hell, and the ultimate force of evil couldn’t even convince him to drop his underwear on the floor.”
“Not him, the cat!”
Austin continued washing a spotless white paw, ignoring both the conversation and the seven of spades only partially hidden by a fringe of stomach fur.
Claire snorted. “What did you expect? He’s a cat.” She had no idea how a cat, a ghost, and Dean had managed to play rummy when only one of them could actually manipulate the cards, nor did she want to know. Shrugging off her jacket, she moved farther into the room, pulling a suddenly reluctant Howard Poropat along with her by the pocket on his beige duffle coat.
The ghost’s eyes widened. “I don’t believe it! How’d you convince him?”
“I asked him nicely.” She dropped down onto the edge of the bed, out of the reconciliation’s direct line of fire.
“Cheryl?”
“Howard.”
The bed dipped as Dean joined her. Claire leaned back and, when her weight pressed into his shoulder, turned her head to murmur, “You okay?”
“I got clipped by the six of clubs, but my sweater deflected it.”
Dean’s sweater was a traditional fisherman’s cable knit. Handmade by his aunt from wool so raw it had barely paused between sheep and needles, Claire suspected it could, if not deflect bullets, certainly discourage them. “Thanks for staying with her.”
His arm slipped around her waist. “No problem, Boss, always willing to help.”
Austin’s right, Claire thought as they turned their attention back to the couple staring into each other’s eyes in the center of the room. It’s been implied for a week, what are we waiting for?
There’d been contact—touching, kissing, more touching, gentle explorations all crammed into those rare moments when they were actually alone and not likely to hear a speculative comment just as things got interesting—but somehow they hadn’t moved on to that next step.
Maybe I should lock Austin in the bathroom.
The next level of intimacy.
Not that he’d stay there.
The horizontal mambo…
Stop it.
“Howard.”
“Cheryl?” Pulling off his glove with his teeth, he held out his hand and stroked the air by her cheek. “The, uh, Keeper, says you got something to say to me?”
“That’s right.” She leaned into his touch. His baby finger sank into her eye socket. She didn’t even notice, but Howard shuddered and snatched his hand away. “It’s about me and Tony.”
“Tony? My best friend who you betrayed me with?”
“Yeah. Tony. I got something I need to say.”
Howard spread his hands, the picture of forgiving magnanimity. “What is it, babe?”
Cheryl smiled. “I just wanted to say—had to say—before I left this world forever…” All four of her listeners leaned into the pause. “…that Tony was a better lover than you ever were. Bigger, better, and he knew how to use it! We did it twice, twice, during his lunch hour, and he bought me a hoagie! He made me forget every miserable time you ever TOUCHED ME!”
In the silence that followed the sound of Howard slamming up against the inside of the door, the queen of hearts fell from the ceiling and Austin murmured, “I gotta admit, that wasn’t totally unexpected.”
Calm and triumphant, Cheryl turned toward the bed. “All right, Keeper. I’m ready.”
“Dean…”
“I’ll see that he’s okay.”
It only took a moment for Claire to send Cheryl on. Thinned by a distinct sense of closure, the possibilities practically opened themselves.
“Remember what I said, hon.” Scarlet lips made a suggestive kissing motion. “You oughta go for it.”
Keepers were always careful not to respond emotionally to provocation from metaphysical accidents. Unfortunately, Claire remembered that after she shoved Cheryl through to the Otherside just a little harder than necessary. A lot harder than necessary.
Howard seemed essentially unaffected by both his dead wife’s parting words and the impact with the door. As Claire resealed the barrier and turned, blinking away afterimages of the beyond and of a translucent figure bouncing twice, Dean was helping him onto the end of the nearer bed.
“Is she gone?” he asked, searching through thinning hair for a bump.
“Yes.”
“Is she in Hell?”
“Not my department.” Grasping the soft lines of his chin lightly with one hand, Claire tilted his head up. “It’s time you went home, Howard.”
Pale blue eyes widened.
“You were thinking about your late wife and you couldn’t sleep, so you went out for a drive.”
“For a drive…?”
“You found yourself outside the motel room where she died, and you got out of the car.”
“Out of the car…?”
“You stared at the door to the room for a long moment.”
“Long moment…?”
“Then you got back into the car and you went home.”
“Went home…?”
“You don’t know why, but you feel better about her death and the way things were left between you. You’re glad it’s over.”
“Glad to be rid of her.”
“Close enough.” It was the first definitive statement he’d made. She carefully used the new, more probable version of events to wipe out his actual memories. Then, still holding his chin, she walked him out to his car where she released him.
“Is he gone?” Dean asked as Claire came back into the room and sagged against the door.
“Oh, yeah. I demanded to know what he was doing staring at my room and he, after telling me his wife had died there, asked me if I wanted to comfort him.”
“He was sad?”
“Not that kind of comfort, Dean.”
“What…oh.”
“Lovely couple, weren’t they?” Rubbing her temples, she walked to the end of the bed and scuffed out the X with the edge of her shoe. “Makes you want to swear off relationships for the rest of your life.”
It took her a moment to figure out why the answering silence resonated like the inside of a crowded elevator after an unexpected emission. Then she realized what she’d said.
And who to.
“Open mouth, insert other foot,” Austin advised.
“But they were nasty.”
“No one’s arguing. Although I can’t understand why you’re afraid that you and Dean will someday morph into them.”
Claire had a sudden vision of herself in red stretch pants and a turquoise sweater and shuddered. “I’m not.”