Deeper Read Free Page B

was enough.
    We got under
way early, and most of the trip down the coastline was as pleasant as could
be.   It only became uncomfortable when I
mentioned our destination to Charlie.
    The thing is,
now and then I forget how much of a sailor Charlie is.   He did his time in the Navy, of course, and
he was practically raised on the fishing boats, but I forget that sometimes,
because he doesn't usually let himself act like a superstitious clown.
    He heard the
name Golden Cove and jumped back like I'd slapped him in the face with a
jellyfish.
    "You have
a good time, Joe, "   Just like that he was ready to hop off the side of the Isabella and start swimming for home.
    "Oh for
Christ's sake, Charlie, grow up."   I
didn't mean to laugh at him, but I did.
    Charlie turned
on me fast and jabbed a finger in my face.   "You know how I feel about that place, Joe.   We've talked about it a hundred
times."   He wasn't laughing.   He was pissed off and he was frightened.
    "Charlie,
it's a damned town.   There's nothing
going on there that should have you ready to swim all the way home."
    Remember that
couple I told you about earlier?   Well,
the man who made me look like Hercules looked over when he heard my words and
shook his head.
    "Well,
that's what some of us are here to find out, isn't it?"   He managed a small smile, which looked like
it didn't fit him at all.
    Charlie looked
at the man and then back at me, as if somehow the man with the miserable face
had just proved his point for him.   Rather than give my first mate a one-fingered salute, I looked over at
the stranger on my ship.   "Care to
explain that one?"
    "Well, my
wife and me, we're here to investigate claims that Golden Cove is
haunted."
    "Yeah?   What
makes you a specialist?"
    He seemed a
little surprised that I didn't know the answer already.   "I'm Jacob Parsons, my wife is Mary
Parsons.   We're parapsychologists."   It finally clicked where I had seen them
before:   on the TV at home.   Belle was always watching shows about
murders, unsolved murders, or real life haunted houses at night, when any sensible
person would have been sleeping.   I
didn't mind, because I could sleep through almost anything.   Now and then I watched enough of the shows
that the names Jacob and Mary Parsons actually meant something to me.   They were on a dozen or more specials every
Halloween, and had been for at least a decade.
    Charlie
couldn't have looked more upset if the man talking to us had actually yanked a
ghost out from behind his ear and thrown it at him.   I don't like to make fun of people's beliefs,
but I had about as much need of a ghost hunter as I did for a gynecologist.
    My sentiments
must have shown on my face, because Parsons nodded as if to say just you wait and see, Mr. Know-it-all .   I rolled my eyes toward Charlie and shook my
head.
    "Charlie,
do you honestly mean to tell me you're gonna let a few scary stories keep you
from making a living?"   He was
acting like a child, so I treated him like one.
    It's the best
way I've ever learned to piss Charlie Moncrief off.   And it worked just as well as it always
does.   Now, I need to explain a little
something about Charlie.   He is, as I
already said, a ladies' man.   He is also
one of the best damned sailors I've ever had the pleasure to know.   He can do damned near anything required to
handle a boat in the roughest weather and he's as strong as an ox.   To the best of my knowledge, he'd never lost a
fight, either, and I'd witnessed quite a few of them back when I barhopped.
    My point is
this:   pissing off Charlie is always a
risky proposition.   He stared hard at me,
with the sort of look in his eyes that said he wouldn't have minded
force-feeding his boot down my throat.   I'm not really much into taking risks with my life, but I trusted that
we were good enough friends that he'd let me slide and just be angry enough to
stay on instead.
    I sort of hate
manipulating people, but I can do it