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Gera stopped by the local coffee shop and ordered their strongest cup. She needed something to clear her head. As she made her way back down the sidewalk, she imagined she felt Billy Boy’s eyes following her, searing into her back.
She started the descent down the mountain, already nervous about driving at such heights. Being a fan of roller coasters, it was odd that she should be so apprehensive. She chalked it up to the fact that she didn’t drive the coasters, just rode them.
“Don’t look down,” she said aloud to herself. “Keep your eyes focused on the road. None of this blurry stuff. Focus, Gera.” The white line swam before her, multiplying by two.
She took her hand off the wheel just long enough to chug her coffee. “Damn, that burns!” she cursed, even though it wasn’t a habit of hers. “Wait, wait, wait! Why are there three lines now?” she wailed. “They’re multiplying like rabbits! This is so not good.”
She slowed down, even when the car behind her honked. Repeatedly.
“Go chase your own rabbits,” she snarled. “There, that’s the spirit. Shoot me the bird as you go flying past. Fly away, little birdie.”
She drained the last of her coffee. “Last chance to sober up, Gera girl. I don’t know what he put in that drink, but it was some strong sh—”
She never finished her sentence. Something shiny caught her eye. It stretched along the side of the highway, fender high. She knew, because she nudged it with her bumper. Bounced right off it, too, right into the other lane of traffic. Where a pickup truck was traveling.
Someone in the car screamed. By the time Gera jerked the wheel and came back into her own lane, she realized the scream had been hers. Knowing she was in real trouble now—most likely drugged, more than drunk—Gera looked for a place to pull over, but she was headed down a long, thin ribbon of road that barely left room enough for two vehicles to pass. The ribbon zigzagged down the mountain, switching back and forth with dizzying frequency. With a car on her bumper, she couldn’t give into the urge to just stop, right there in the middle of the road. She had to keep going.
“Talk it out of your system, Gera girl,” she said aloud. “Don’t let that little punk get the better of you. Snake Boy was playing games with you, but you won’t let him win, will you? No. You will win, because you’re smarter than he is. And you’re smart enough to get yourself out of this mess. So let’s think. Think, think, think, think, think.”
Her bumper brushed along the guardrail again, ever so slightly. The car behind her honked.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m not asleep. But thanks. Thanks for looking out for me, whoever you are. Who knows? Maybe you’re Mac. Maybe good ole Mac will follow me down the mountain and make sure I make it in one piece. Wouldn’t want me to sliiide over the edge.” She drew out the word as if she were actually sliding. Judging from the rough tug on her front fender and the horn behind her, she might have been.
“Oops, back toward the middle, Gera. Keep your eyes on the triple lines there in the middle. Can’t go sliding down the mountain like Bozo the Banker says the town will do. No need to race it to the bottom.” She giggled at her own brilliance.
Giggled again, at the lack of his. “Can you believe that dude? He’s a millionaire. Handsome as sin. A little bit sexy, too, though not as sexy as Jake. But he’s nuts. Bonkers. He thinks Mac murdered Abe to keep some big secret that the town will slide down the hill like a giant melting snow cone. Why is it all the good ones have some fatal flaw, like believing in ghosts?”
She started to mewl just a little. She knew she was doing it, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. She was trying to talk it out, trying to keep herself awake and conscious and between the white lines, no matter how many of them there were. Most of all, she was trying to keep herself alive.
“He could be the perfect man,” she whined aloud. “Smart. Handsome. Successful. And sweet, so sweet. But Jake believes in ghosts. And did I say how sexy he is? Clark Kent and Superman, all rolled up into one gorgeous body and the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. Face it, Lois Lane, you’d like to jump his bones.”
She attempted a song, but it sounded more like the range from a deep-toned gong, reverberating in her chest. “Bones, bones, bones.” She hummed another bar, off-tune, before stopping abruptly. “Wonder if Mac has bones? If he doesn’t, how does his coat stay on his shoulders? Do ghosts have shoulders? I’ll have to ask Minnie, if she comes to the garden tomorrow. I like Minnie. Minnie knows everything. Minnie is like a freaking walking ogle.” She giggled. “Now she has me doing it, calling it ogle. I wonder if I googled ‘ghost bones’ what it would say.”
She straightened in her seat and spoke in a sharp, authoritative voice, as if she were speaking to an employee. “Gera, take a note. If you make it out of this mess alive, find out if ghosts have bones. If not, find out how they can wear coats and hats and go around scaring people. Most importantly, find out how they can stab another man to death. How the heck would they even hold a knife?”
She looked down to examine her own hand and drifted a bit into the other lane. Horns from either direction alerted her to her mistake. However, she saw only five fingers on her hand, which was a good thing. She quickly kept up her banter, knowing it was the key to staying alert.
“Okay, so whatever he gave me is fast acting. No trace left to linger in my blood. Blood, blood, blood. I hate blood. No, oops, get back on track. Think about bones. Ask yourself if ghosts have bones. Jake has bones. I bet he has really nice, long bones... No, no, nice image, but no, back on track here. To stab a man, you have to be able to hold a knife. To hold a knife, you must have a hand. To have a hand, you must have bones. So either a) ghosts do, indeed, have bones, or b) a ghost didn’t kill Abe Cunningham. What’s that you say, Lois Lane? You say b? Why, yes, I do believe you are correct. Let’s go for the bonus round. True or false? If Abe Cunningham wasn’t killed by a ghost, he must’ve been killed by a mortal. True? You are absolutely correct! We will let Clark Kent deliver your prize later this evening.”
Gera smiled at the thought of that. The way her girl parts zinged, she suspected she wasn’t quite as drugged as she had been ten minutes ago.
In fact, she saw only one white line in the center of the road now. And look. Up ahead was a small patch of dirt, wide enough to accommodate a car. Judging by the tracks, cars pulled over here all the time. She put on her blinker and slowed down enough to safely exit the road. The car behind her beeped its horn as it whizzed by.
Gera jammed the brakes harder than she intended, but at least she was no longer moving. With great concentration, she put the car into Park and got out for a breath of fresh air. Mere inches away, cars whizzed past on the roadway, oblivious to her troubles. She should’ve pulled over a bit further. Her legs were unsteady as she made her way around the car and checked the front bumper.
Ouch. She hoped her insurance covered all those scratches.
Gera stood on the side of the road for at least ten minutes, trying to clear her head, her lungs, and her smarting pride. Billy Boy Macandie had outsmarted her. If anything could sober her up, it would be plotting her revenge.
Picking her way back to the driver’s side—timing it between oncoming cars so she could safely open her door—Gera happened to glance into her backseat.
A man’s hat rested on the seat. Tall and black, it was the same kind of stovepipe-style hat they claimed ole Mac wore.
Just another reminder that someone still stalked her.
***
AS SHE SUSPECTED, DETECTIVE Chao could divulge only limited information. Even if she had been mentally up for the challenge, she doubted the hardened detective would fall for any of her tricks, not the way Mike Cooper had.
Now that her mind was clear, Gera remembered the trick she had played on Cooper and felt more than a little guilty. Maybe she deserved whatever it was Billy Boy gave her.
She told Detective Chao about the visit to the Cactus Bar, but she declined his offer to press charges. She had no evidence. The drugs were long gone by now, out of her system with no lingering effects. He suggested she go to the emergency room as a precautionary measure, but she knew there was no point. Just as there was no point in testing the stovepipe hat for prints. Both efforts would be a waste of time.
All the detective could tell her was that the Jerome police had questioned Robert Macandie in connection to a robbery that took place there six weeks ago. At the time of the robbery, Billy Boy sat in the same chair Gera now occupied, answering some questions Chao had concerning a separate matter.
Like Cooper said, he couldn’t have a better alibi than that.
Before tackling the mountain again, Gera drank plenty of water and another cup of coffee. She took a third cup with her, just in case.
The drive up was dull in comparison to her earlier adventure. Slow and steady, despite the trail of cars stuck behind her.
Dull, Gera decided, was nice for a change.
Jake was working the desk when she returned to the hotel. It was the first time she had seen him since their late-night dinner two nights ago, and she realized she was hungry for the sight of him.
Bones, bones, bones.
She shook the echo away and wiggled her fingers as she headed for the elevator.
“Hey, Gera, do you have a minute?”
“Uh, yeah, sure.” After the day she had experienced, she was hot, sweaty, and tired. The Arizona heat and random drugs weren’t her best source for beauty, she knew.
Jake stepped out from behind the desk and motioned her toward a nearby settee.
“I understand you had a problem this morning.”
A gross understatement, at best. “You’ll have to be more specific than that.”
“I understand you had concerns with housekeeping?”
“Was that just this morning?” she murmured, raking her fingers through her hair. She really couldn’t do it any more damage than was already done.
When he gave her a strange look, she simply said, “Busy day.”
“It must’ve been,” he agreed, the expression in his vivid blue eyes somewhere between sympathetic and amused. Incredulous was a good word for it, Gera mused, staring into his eyes. They were such a gorgeous shade, even behind the lens of his glasses.
“Gera?”
She blinked slowly, realizing he had caught her staring. It had taken drugs to make her admit, even to herself, that she was attracted to him. Now that the secret was out, there seemed to be no controlling her raging hormones. Her girl parts were on full alert.
“Sorry. I guess I’m more exhausted than I thought. But yes, back to your question. I did have a bit of a problem, but it’s okay. I’m good now.”
Jake wasn’t easily convinced. “Seriously, if there’s an issue with housekeeping, I want to know so that I can address it properly.”
“It was me,” she admitted. “I didn’t sleep well and I was in a really grouchy mood this morning, and I let it get off with me. I made a big deal out of nothing, and I think I almost caused your receptionist to have a nervous breakdown. But honestly, it was nothing.”
“It didn’t sound like nothing, not if she called Lucy.” Tiny laugh lines creased the corners of his eyes. A sea of deep blue twinkled from behind his lens. “Calling in Lucy is like calling in the big guns.”
Gera laid her hand onto Jake’s arm. “Believe me when I say, I’d already forgotten about it. It’s not a big deal.”
“If you’re sure...”
“I am.”
Her hand lingered on his arm, where she detected a very long, strong bone. His hand came up to cover hers. “Are you too tired to join me for dinner tonight?” he said, his voice warming with hope.
Gera felt a surge of energy flash through her. “Not anymore.”
“We’ll try to beat the clock tonight. Eight o’clock?” he suggested. “Or we could go out, if you’d rather.”
“No, here is fine.” It was probably the safest place on the mountain.
The bell at the front door jingled. Jake released her hand and stood. “Duty calls. Guests for the weekend.”
She no longer worried about being the only guest at the hotel. She had bigger things to worry about. Things like crazy bartenders, crazy bankers, and crazy citizens. Things like getting Mike Cooper fired and bringing Miles Anderson’s wrath down upon her. Things like people who stalked her and drugged her and left warnings in her car.
Things like staying alive.
