The Last to See Me (The Last Ghost #1) - M Dressler Page 0,6

staggered and lashed out, waving his arms as though he could see me. “Scum! I know you’re there, and I know what you are, and it’s not going to stand! I’ll buy this son-of-a-bitching house and I will have it sucked clean and dry, you dead, you sick—Nobody gets between me and—I will destroy you, I—”

Mrs. Dane wept and begged and said she wanted to go outside, please, now.

Ellen said into her phone, afterward: “And then, believe it or not, I made the sale! I know! I told him. I told him the house had already been checked. I told him the whole village was cleaned out, we were certain of it, ages ago. But Mr. Dane insisted. He said he was going to get the best hunter in the business and have the house flushed, like—like a port-o-john … No, I don’t know if his wife is totally on board. But he certainly is. He told me no lowly scum was going to get the better of them or what they wanted. He told me he was going to buy the house and punish it. Yes. He was dead serious. He said if you give freeloaders an inch they’ll take—Right. He overbid. He’s already transferred twenty percent. He says we’ll get the rest, I mean the heirs will, when the house is certified clean. I think we need to talk to the heirs … Okay. I can handle it. Okay.”

She stood in the garden that late afternoon, the sea breeze whipping through her soft, bobbed hair, the shingles of the Lambry House behind her turning slate-colored as the afternoon chilled, and she’d squeezed and hugged herself. She looked, from where I stood staring down at her from the tower, amazed and shaky and ready to jump for joy and cry all at the same time.

4

Now, three days later, Philip Pratt watches Ellen’s car pull up again to my house. He steps off the porch, in his workman’s coat, and licks his lips. A man with a job to do, who’s been called the best, it seems.

She hurries up the path toward him. I know her by now. She doesn’t like being late. I let her pass by me in the arbor, without a scratch.

“Mr. Pratt, did you get my text? I’m so sorry I’m late, you let yourself in through the gate, I see.”

“Ellen?”

“Yes. How are you? How was your trip? Okay?”

“It was. I did let myself in. I hope you don’t mind. It’s a beautiful garden.”

“Yes. Yes.” She’s breathless. “A full acre. Which is very rare on this peninsula, and—and—”

“A real selling point in a village like this, I imagine. It’s all right, catch your breath.” He smiles down from his bulk, his height, at her. And I can see the smile makes her happy. Why is that? It needles me when someone small thinks someone large is closer to the sun.

“Thank you. I’m so sorry again.” Ellen sets her satchel down at her feet. “It was—It’s my cat. I can’t find her.”

“Sorry to hear that. Pets are so important.”

“She’s just … tricky. I rent a place out in the woods, south of town? It’s a little wild out there, and I don’t want her to get into any trouble. So I prefer to get her safe in the house before I leave. Especially because she’s not a hundred percent well right now.”

“I understand completely.”

“So I’m a little frazzled. Anyway.” She tucks her hair behind her ears and looks around. “So. You can see how the property is situated here. A lot of privacy. Especially with the headland behind it. The Lambry House practically sits on its own. It’s an old and unique setting on the coast. Which is one reason I think the Danes are fighting for it. I have the keys. Let’s go right in. I can’t tell you what a relief it is to have you here.”

“I came as fast as the highway could carry me.”

“Thanks so much again.”

She’s still catching her breath. Her walk is an uneven march next to his calm, steady one. But she gets him to the porch. “Okay. Come up and let’s let you get going. Have you been filled in on all the details?”

“Mr. Dane gave me some insight.”

“I bet.”

I linger behind them, on the stone path, in the sun. It’s funny how small Ellen and Pratt, from this bit of distance, look on the curved stage of the porch. Like actors in a scene that’s too grand for