special order copies of that old true story one you did about haunted houses. Calla and some of those lunatics up at the High Hooey Center wanted them." He snorted in disgust. "Guess you think you're some kind of expert. They all do, when they first show up."
The High Hooey Center? "I'm not unfamiliar with the paranormal--" David paused to take a deep breath. Don't let him get you, he cautioned himself as he realized he was trotting out his evil twin, the patronizing intellectual snob, to respond to the geezer's not-so-subtle attack. That's not nice, Masters. He exhaled; he could take a little criticism, especially considering the source. "I've seen some interesting things and done a little research."
"Yeah, yeah," said the man as he bagged David's purchases.
"That's what they all say. Then they go in there and die. Research, my ass."
This wasn't just an old geezer, David decided. This was a certified old fart, all judgment and hot air. But fascinating. He smiled patiently. "As I understand it, the only death on the property in recent years was that of the child who fell from the lighthouse a few months ago." He handed the old fart a twenty. "Or has something happened since?"
"Wouldn't know anything about it," the clerk grunted. He laid three ones and change on the counter then pushed it toward David with his fingertips. "Don't care. Ain't none of my business."
Christ Almighty. "Have you ever been in Baudey House?"
David asked, careful to pronounce the name correctly.
"Body House. Plain old Body House." He thrust the bag at David, then crossed his arms and resumed his hard stare.
"Once, when I was a stupid kid, I went in on a dare. Learned my lesson. Never went back."
"Did something happen while you were inside?"
He set his mouth in a grim, uncooperative line. "I warned you. Don't forget I warned you." An instant later, the man's gaze shifted as the market's door groaned on its hinges.
"Dad?"
Amber stood on the threshold, the afternoon sunlight forming a golden nimbus around her long, tawny hair. "Daddy, you said you'd just be a minute."
"Get in or get out, young lady," the old fart commanded.
"You're letting flies in."
Unperturbed, she stepped inside and let the door slam behind her. The clerk glared but she ignored him. "Let's go. We have to check out the high school before dark. You promised." She took the paper sack from his arms and tilted her head toward the clerk. "You can come back for your local color later, Dad."
The old man grunted something that sounded like "fugginwriter," then cleared his throat. "She yours?"
David nodded.
"You intending to take her into that house?"
"Yes."
"When it kills her, you remember Ferd Cox warned you. It's gonna be all your fault for taking her in there."
"God," moaned Amber. "Get a life."
"Amber, hush," David said softly.
Cox turned his discomfiting glare on her. "You don't believe in ghosts, is that it, little girl?"
"Of course not," she replied, her own evil twin gaining power. "Not the kind that can hurt you."
"Guess your daddy told you there was no such thing?"
She nodded. "They're just anomalies. They're simple."
David cringed a little as his daughter fixed Ferd Cox with her straight-on stare and smiled condescendingly. "Only superstitious people believe in ghosts. Let's go, Daddy, please?"
"Okay, I'm coming." David followed her to the door, then glanced back at Ferd Cox. "See you later."
"Not frigging likely."
"Charming man," David said, as they got into the car.
Amber set the bag on the backseat then slid in beside him. She grinned wickedly. "That Cox, he's a sucker."
"I'm your father. Don't talk like that in front of your father." He pulled out onto the little paved road, then added, "Save it for your friends."
"All my friends are in Massachusetts, Daddy."
"You'll make more."
"I doubt it." She stared out the window at a woman in pink curlers stumping down the side of the road. "This place is full of geeks."
"Give it a chance. You know, you
The High Hooey Center? "I'm not unfamiliar with the paranormal--" David paused to take a deep breath. Don't let him get you, he cautioned himself as he realized he was trotting out his evil twin, the patronizing intellectual snob, to respond to the geezer's not-so-subtle attack. That's not nice, Masters. He exhaled; he could take a little criticism, especially considering the source. "I've seen some interesting things and done a little research."
"Yeah, yeah," said the man as he bagged David's purchases.
"That's what they all say. Then they go in there and die. Research, my ass."
This wasn't just an old geezer, David decided. This was a certified old fart, all judgment and hot air. But fascinating. He smiled patiently. "As I understand it, the only death on the property in recent years was that of the child who fell from the lighthouse a few months ago." He handed the old fart a twenty. "Or has something happened since?"
"Wouldn't know anything about it," the clerk grunted. He laid three ones and change on the counter then pushed it toward David with his fingertips. "Don't care. Ain't none of my business."
Christ Almighty. "Have you ever been in Baudey House?"
David asked, careful to pronounce the name correctly.
"Body House. Plain old Body House." He thrust the bag at David, then crossed his arms and resumed his hard stare.
"Once, when I was a stupid kid, I went in on a dare. Learned my lesson. Never went back."
"Did something happen while you were inside?"
He set his mouth in a grim, uncooperative line. "I warned you. Don't forget I warned you." An instant later, the man's gaze shifted as the market's door groaned on its hinges.
"Dad?"
Amber stood on the threshold, the afternoon sunlight forming a golden nimbus around her long, tawny hair. "Daddy, you said you'd just be a minute."
"Get in or get out, young lady," the old fart commanded.
"You're letting flies in."
Unperturbed, she stepped inside and let the door slam behind her. The clerk glared but she ignored him. "Let's go. We have to check out the high school before dark. You promised." She took the paper sack from his arms and tilted her head toward the clerk. "You can come back for your local color later, Dad."
The old man grunted something that sounded like "fugginwriter," then cleared his throat. "She yours?"
David nodded.
"You intending to take her into that house?"
"Yes."
"When it kills her, you remember Ferd Cox warned you. It's gonna be all your fault for taking her in there."
"God," moaned Amber. "Get a life."
"Amber, hush," David said softly.
Cox turned his discomfiting glare on her. "You don't believe in ghosts, is that it, little girl?"
"Of course not," she replied, her own evil twin gaining power. "Not the kind that can hurt you."
"Guess your daddy told you there was no such thing?"
She nodded. "They're just anomalies. They're simple."
David cringed a little as his daughter fixed Ferd Cox with her straight-on stare and smiled condescendingly. "Only superstitious people believe in ghosts. Let's go, Daddy, please?"
"Okay, I'm coming." David followed her to the door, then glanced back at Ferd Cox. "See you later."
"Not frigging likely."
"Charming man," David said, as they got into the car.
Amber set the bag on the backseat then slid in beside him. She grinned wickedly. "That Cox, he's a sucker."
"I'm your father. Don't talk like that in front of your father." He pulled out onto the little paved road, then added, "Save it for your friends."
"All my friends are in Massachusetts, Daddy."
"You'll make more."
"I doubt it." She stared out the window at a woman in pink curlers stumping down the side of the road. "This place is full of geeks."
"Give it a chance. You know, you
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