Haunting at High Tide Read online

  "We both thought we saw something at the school. We became best friends."

  "So, what happened?"

  "There was this girl..."

  It always came down to an unrequited love, didn't it? Heck, I had a hard enough time getting Nate and Trevor to stomach standing in the same room with each other.

  "She said what we did was dumb, so we both tried to prove her wrong."

  Okay, so maybe not unrequited love. Maybe more of a professional ego bruising.

  "Echo wanted to find solid proof that ghosts were real, and then wanted to present her with the cold, hard facts so that she'd know she was wrong. I, however, knew she'd never listen to something she didn't see, so I... may have used some theatricality to convince her."

  I poured the ice over the top of the espresso and gave it a swirl. "How'd that go?"

  He flushed red. "Echo betrayed me and told her what I was about to do. She tried to embarrass me in front of the whole school and said some really terrible things. And then Echo was mad I 'made a mockery' of our profession and ended our friendship."

  "Huh," I said, putting a lid on the cup and pushing it across the counter at him. I really wanted to ask him what she said and what exactly he had planned that made her so angry. But this was the longest he had talked to me without shouting, and I didn't want to press my luck.

  Tango took the cup while I ran him up. He took a sip, regathering himself from the memory of that slight. "But jokes on her. And him. Everyone else thought what I was doing was super cool, and they started coming to my haunted houses. And I always finished those nights with a real séance, so it isn't like I was lying or anything. I was just... creating an atmosphere where they might be receptive to what was going on."

  "And Echo got jealous?" I hazarded.

  "He started up a rival séance group and tried to poach all of my... well, I don't know if you'd call them 'friends', but people who came to see the truth I was speaking."

  "And here you are," I said, giving him his change.

  "He's just so stingy. Stingy with his gifts. Stingy with his friendship. There's not a generous bone in his body. He's been out to get me and prove his way is the best way, not by becoming great, but by destroying me."

  I could see Tango think about putting the leftover coins in the tip jar, but then changed his mind and shoved everything in his pocket. Typical.

  "Well, I hope someday you can... be friends again," I said lamely.

  Tango darkened with spite. "Never."

  But at that moment, the door to Bitter Beans opened and we both turned. Johnny and Echo entered. I could see Echo start to puff up like a tomcat about to get into a fight.

  "He's so predictable," Tango uttered, shaking his head. He lifted up one of his crutches and pointed it at Echo. "You sabotaged me and could have gotten me killed!"

  "Me?" Echo replied, shocked by the accusation. "You poisoned me!"

  "What are you talking about? I didn't do anything!" shouted Tango.

  Johnny put his hands on Echo's shoulders, lightly directing him back toward the direction of the door. "Look, dude, maybe we should go?"

  Echo pointed his finger at Tango, like Johnny was holding him back, although it was pretty clear Johnny was barely touching him. "You brought me some food as a peace offering and after I ate it, I was puking up my guts!"

  "As much as I would love to spike your dinner with something that would cause your insides to rot, I didn't do it."

  "And as much as I would have loved to have sliced through that floorboard, I didn't do it."

  But his words struck me. The sawing through the floorboard was just something that Tim had joked about with Nate and me, and I was the only one who noticed the cut in the wood. How did Echo know that was what happened?

  Johnny leaned forward, trying to get between the guys by speaking a language they both understood. "But what if it was ACTUALLY an encounter with the poltergeist who was trying to give you a message?"

  It was like a slap across the face. For just a moment, Tango and Echo stood there contemplating the idea.

  But then Echo clamped onto this thought like a dog with a bone. "YEAH! Why are you complaining if you had an ACTUAL encounter with the poltergeist during your séance? Or did you fake it so that people would think you had an encounter?"

  "Why would I drop an entire bookshelf on myself to fake a ghostly encounter?"

  "You've faked it before."

  It was a very low blow, especially after hearing from Tango how their friendship had fallen apart.

  But maybe it was the memory of what they once had, or the secret longing to return to those days, that caused Tango to try and reach across the years and extend a little bit of an olive branch.

  Tango got very still. "Do you think it could have been the poltergeist?"

  Echo shrugged and folded his arms. "If he didn't want you there, it would make sense."

  Tango bumped the tip of a crutch on the ground, like he was trying to figure out whether to share something that was on his mind or not. Finally, he made his decision. He turned to me. "Whatever it is, it does not want a historical museum built. It left this on the shelf for us. The shelf that fell and crushed me." He held out an old matchbook from the Grand Hotel with a logo from long ago.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I was closing up Bitter Beans for the afternoon break. Tango and Echo seemed to have reached some sort of a peace, which was great. I think the whole entire town was tired of their territorial nonsense. But I inwardly groaned when the bell over the door rang with a late customer, especially after seeing who it was. Of all the lousy people keeping me after hours.

  "Madison, shouldn't you be buying gross, pre-ground, out of a bulk can coffee from your boyfriend?" I asked, hoping I might put her off enough she'd storm out of the store in a huff.

  No such luck.

  She sniffed as she finished whatever text she was sending out and put it in the butter-colored designer purse swinging from the crook of her arm. She smiled stiffly. "I believe in supporting local businesses. Give me an extra large decaf soy macchiato with sugar free caramel." She picked up a little bottle of hand sanitizer we were selling and threw it on the counter with two fingers. "And that."

  I contemplated instilling a Madison ban in our establishment, but taking her money and participating in her eventual financial demise was better. I rang her up and then went over to the espresso machine to pull the shot. As I steamed the foam, Madison yelled at me over the noise.

  "Is your Granny here?" she asked.

  "What?"

  "Is your GRANNY HERE??" She did some sort of pantomime that I think was her impression of Granny walking.

  I rolled my eyes. "No, she's out."

  Madison sighed dramatically. "I guess I could have gotten the coffee from Trevor then. I, like, wasted a whole five bucks."

  I pushed the drink across the counter at her. "But think of how much you would have missed supporting local businesses. And me."

  Madison narrowed her eyes as she pulled two Stevia packets out of her purse and flicked them with her claw-like fingernails.

  "What do you need Granny for?" I asked as I proceeded to re-clean all of the stuff I had to dirty up just for Madison.

  She shrugged and absentmindedly flicked one of the dangling paper bat decorations I had made. "I just wanted to see if she might change her mind on the hardware shop."

  It was such a random statement. "What?" I asked. I folded my arms and leaned against the back counter suspiciously. "Why would she do that? She and Richard are over on the mainland right now working on getting the mortgage."

  Madison shrugged like it was soooo not a big deal. "I was just thinking, what with the accident and everything, if maybe they might want to take a look at all the deferred maintenance that they are going to have to deal with." She put a straw into her hot coffee to sip it. "I mean, there is SO much. Floor boards falling apart... Structural integrity. Who knows what is going on with the roof. And piping? Electrical? It's
just... a lot. Especially for old people like them. I mean, they're so old. Like, one foot in the grave old. And is that how they want to spend their final years?" She slurped loudly on the straw.

  But I had dealt with her so many times, I could read her like a book. I cocked my head. "Spill it, Madison. Who do you have lined up to buy it?"

  "You are SO suspicious of me!" she replied, horrified I would suggest such a thing.

  "Who is it?"

  She gave in. She bounced her straw up and down in her cup. "One of the big box hardware stores was interested in buying it and turning it into a little outpost."

  That gave me pause. As much as the island didn't want big retailers, Ralph had expressed how much he wanted a handyman to buy the business.

  "Huh," I said.

  "Huh, is right. See, sometimes I actually DO care about this dumb island."

  "For a commission."

  "For reasonable compensation for my time and talents," she corrected me before shrugging. "Besides, if he doesn't sell, they are thinking of making an offer on the old cannery."

  "That would actually make more sense. There's a TON of space over there. Room for all sorts of lumber."

  "But so frickin' far for when someone needs to buy batteries," she pointed out. "And, I mean, even if they end up going with the cannery, I know of this venture capitalist who wants to build workspaces and lofts for remote gig workers, and Ralph's place would be SO great."

  Funny that she knew about that other offer Ralph had received and rejected. "Well, I don't think Granny and Richard are going to back out."

  "It would just be a shame if anything else happened to anyone over there, what with it being so derelict and all," she said.

  I looked at her strangely. I mean... I had learned my lesson many times about suspecting people of things they didn't do. But this was the second time she brought up the threat of someone getting hurt.

  "No need to get all mafia about it," I informed her.

  "You're cute," she said, wrinkling her nose. She took another sip and glanced around the shop. I had no idea why she hadn't left yet. She picked up the book about Seaside and flipped through the pages without stopping to read anything. Probably didn't have enough full color fashion pictures for her. "So.... What do you think of Lottie?"

  I should have been above such things, but I couldn't help it. "Wow. Yeah. Lottie. She's great. So down to earth and pretty. TOTALLY smart."

  Each compliment hit Madison like a personal dig. She clenched her teeth and picked up another book. I didn't point out that she was holding it upside down.

  "I mean, sure. But not so pretty. I mean... She's not interested in Trevor or anything... I mean, not that you've heard of or anything."

  "Do I think she'd stab you in the back and steal your boyfriend?" I stated, then shrugged having way too much fun with this. "I mean, probably not. But Trevor is his own man and is free to make whatever decisions he wants."

  "No, he's not," Madison stated, spinning around so fast, her pony tail streamed behind her like she was a ribbon dancer. "He does not have the right to do anything without checking with me first."

  "Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!" I said, holding up my hands. "You're talking to the wrong girl."

  She stepped forward. "But you dated him. You know what he is capable of."

  I raised an eyebrow as I wiped down my station. "Yeah, I did. And I do know what he is capable of. He won't cheat on you, but he definitely won't stay if he's not getting what he needs."

  "So, you think he needs something more than what I'm giving him?" Madison pressed.

  I stopped and rinsed out the cloth. "Madison, I do believe you are actually a little nervous."

  Her face hardened. "No, I'm not."

  "You think that Trevor is going to pick Lottie over you!"

  She threw down the book and I winced, hoping she didn't bang up the cover.

  "I am worried about no such thing. But in relationships, sometimes it becomes necessary to remind someone that they are beholden to you."

  "Beholden. That's a great word to use in a respectful relationship between equals."

  "You wouldn't understand."

  "You're right," I said.

  She flicked her long, blonde ponytail over her shoulder. "Listen, Trevor needs me and would be nothing without me."

  "Riiiiight," I replied slowly, unable to believe the size of her ego.

  "And he is running for city council next month and is TOTALLY going to get a seat at that table."

  "He's got a degree in political science," I reminded her. "I have no doubt he will."

  "And I will be right there beside him, pushing him along, and no little news reporter is going to get between us," she said, gesticulating so much that coffee came out of her straw. Outraged, she grabbed a wad of napkins and dabbed at the spots on her pink shirt. She flung them down on the counter, spun on her heels, and stalked out.

  But just as she was leaving, Lottie came in. And, man oh man, if looks could kill.

  Rather than be intimidated, though, Lottie was bemused. She hooked her thumb at Madison's death glares and retreating form. "What's her problem?"

  "She thinks you're after her boyfriend."

  Lottie laughed, her jaw hanging open. She seemed like she was having trouble finding the words. "Oh, if I was after her boyfriend, she would know."

  I leaned on the counter and put my fist under my chin, smiling. "But are you? Are you interested in Trevor?"

  She shrugged, trying to play it off. "He's nice and stuff. But I am not second prize. If he wants me, he is going to have to dump that nightmare and ask me himself. I've got too much self respect to go fighting for a guy who would willingly sign up for that."

  I stood up, proud of her. "That's what I thought," I replied. It was the answer any self respecting girl should give. "What can I get you?"

  "Just a black coffee," she said, pulling the money out of her purse. "UGH! The drama of this place." She put the dollar bills on the counter, then nonchalantly mentioned, "Soooo... I heard you saw Tango... How's he doing?"

  "I think the near death experience may have softened some of those rough edges a little. I filled her in on the séance and the cut board I saw as I poured her coffee. "It's so weird, though. Both Echo and Madison knew about the board. I don't know who could have told them."

  "Curiouser and curiouser."

  "You're not going to print that," I stated as I came over with her cup, remembering I wasn't just talking to a friend.

  She shrugged. "I promise not to print anything that can be traced back to you."

  I held the drink back as she reached for it. "Lottie."

  "This is the story of the century!" she mock whined.

  "Don't."

  She sighed. "I promise."

  I smiled and gave her the drink. "It's weird, though," I said, walking over to the cash register. "There's always been a little... gift... left whenever something happens."

  "A gift?"

  The drawer opened with a ring and I counted out her change. "Something historical. The old photo albums. A matchbook from the Grand Hotel. Knowing Ralph and his organizational system, he probably left them all there himself and just forgot about it. But it is just... odd." I shook my head ruefully. "Tango and Echo are convinced it is a message from the great beyond that the ghost of the hardware store is trying to communicate something about the historical museum."

  She lifted the lid on her cup and blew on her coffee. "What do you think about Seaside losing its only hardware store?" she asked casually.

  "Well, Madison said that there's a big box store that might be interested in buying the hardware store, too. Or the cannery. That seems like a better choice."

  "I heard the old cannery was haunted."

  I waved her away. "I mean, sure the place is creepy, but it isn't haunted."

  "Huh," she said. She rustled around in the bottom of her big purse and pulled out a flyer. "Because it looks like Echo, after losing out on the hardware store séance, has
decided to take his ghost tours out to the cannery."

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I marched over to Johnny with the flier in my hand. He was talking to some tourists and ringing up their ghost tour tickets. As soon as they cleared out, I stepped up.

  "Dude! Paige! Tell me you brought some cinnamon rolls!" Johnny rang a little silver-colored call bell on his counter like we were at a diner and his order was up.

  "Johnny, I'm not bringing you anything until you tell me about this ghost hunt through the old cannery," I said, waving the paper at him.

  "Isn't it rad?" he replied, delighted. "Totally Echo's idea. But, like, he saw how everybody dug the séance idea, so he was like, 'Where can I go that is super haunted and junk?' And I said, 'Like, the old cannery' and he was like, 'Dude! That's awesome!'"

  This One-upmanship was getting out of hand. "Johnny, are you sure about this?"

  "Yeah! I totally rented a bus and everything!"

  I groaned. "Johnny, are you making money or losing money?"

  "Losing, but hey." He held out his arms benevolently. "It's for the island. I take them over to the cannery and then we drop them all off at the festival. Badda bing, badda boom, and tada! Instant crowds!"

  I sighed. Having money was still new to Johnny and he was spending it like he was scared it would disappear. "You gotta take care of yourself, Johnny. It's not your job to fix Echo's business."

  He shrugged. "Whatevs. It'll be super fun! And I'm supporting an entrepreneur." He gave a little bow. "Like myself."

  "Echo is not like you," I said, reaching out and taking Johnny's hand like you might do when breaking bad news to a little kid. "You've got a heart."

  He laughed. "C'mon, Paige. He's a good guy. Just super serious about what he does."

  "Serious doesn't mean he's a good tour guide."

  "Well, this'll mix it up. Show him a different way of doing business." Johnny leaned forward. "So, like, do you want to go or what?"

  I smiled and relented. "Sure."

  "Okay. But, like, be forewarned, there might be ghosts."

  "I'll stay alert," I promised.