Haunting at High Tide Read online

  But Seaside's finest were on the information like it was a case cracking clue.

  "TEENAGERS, you say," Stan stated. He turned to Fred. "Write that down."

  Fred put his canister back in his belt holder, reached a lanky arm into his back pocket, and pulled out a pad of paper. He shook his head. "It is always the teenagers..."

  "Probably broke in for a joyride," Stan guessed suspiciously, glancing at the ceiling like one of them might be wedged up in the rafters like a ninja.

  I frowned. "There's no vehicles here..."

  "ON A WHEELBARROW!" Stan threw back at me. "Fred, do a count of all the wheel barrows. Then, head to the big hill to see if they are holding races."

  But Ralph had wandered his way over to the wheelbarrow stack and said, "Nope. Nothing's missing. No wheelbarrow races, I'm afraid."

  Stan's face fell, deflated. "Well. Let's see what else the hooligans could have gotten up to."

  "He was upstairs," I repeated again, motioning that direction. "Maybe we should go upstairs?"

  Stan motioned around the ground floor with two fingers while he kept his stance wide and grounded. "Fred. I need you to secure this space. Make sure nothing's missing. Report back if they've taken so much as a screw."

  Fred took that literally as he nodded and pulled out a box of screws and started counting.

  Ralph shuffled over and took it out of his hands. "The only screws loose are you two."

  Fred seemed slightly offended. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down his long throat. "I was just doing my job."

  "That's what they all say..." Ralph replied with a weary shake of his head. He jerked his thumb. "Come on! Up you go!"

  Stan and Fred had a moment of jostling to see who was going to take the lead, although I couldn't quite tell if either of them actually wanted the job.

  "I'd take the lead," said Fred, "and I'm happy to take the lead, but you're up for that big promotion and it could be very impressive to the board..."

  "FINE!" hissed Stan, glancing up the stairs with fear. "I'm grateful for your generosity. And since I'm taking the lead, I'll make sure to let the commission know it was my bravery that bagged this criminal."

  Fred pushed back. "I'm happy to take the lead if you don't want to."

  "Get on with it already," said Ralph.

  Stan took a couple deep breaths, steeling his courage, and then walked up, one hand outstretched with his finger on the teargas trigger, the other holding his flashlight. It was dark in the storeroom, and he waved the light around. "Come out with your hands up! We have you surrounded!"

  Ralph rolled his eyes and pushed past him, flipping on the light. Stan and Fred crept in like they were black ops infiltrating a terrorist cell. Ralph sat down on a dusty rolling chair near the steps. I decided to keep him company. No one needed a face full of pepper spray because Fred spotted a shadow.

  "Your grandmother still thinking of buying the old place?" Ralph asked.

  "That's what she's been telling me!" I replied.

  He nodded. "Good. Good. I'd be nice for it to stay in the Seaside family. Got a couple requests to turn it into loft apartments or something."

  I crossed my arms. "Really?"

  He nodded. "That Madison has some friends who are jig workers? Wouldn't be so bad if this place was converted into a woodshop."

  I groaned. "I think she meant 'gig workers'," I informed him.

  "Gig?"

  "They work from home on their computers for tech companies."

  His face hardened. "She was telling me they would need to expand the electricity in this place. I figured it was for the band saws."

  "Probably for their computers and servers."

  "Well. That ain't happening," he grumped.

  "Ralph! Could we have you over here for a minute?" Fred called warily.

  Ralph and I looked at each other with curiosity. Had they actually found something?

  Ralph got up and shuffled over. "What is it?"

  We walked around the corner and there were boxes of old stuff - old photo albums and odd pieces of china.

  "This yours?" Stan asked. There was an accusation in his tone. "Doesn't seem the sort of thing to be in a HARDWARE STORE!"

  Annoyed, Ralph waved him away. "Settle down, son." He turned to me. "Did your grandmother start moving in some things?"

  "No," I replied. "I mean, this all should go in an old historical museum, but it isn't us."

  "You confirm this isn't yours?" Fred stated.

  "Never seen it before in my life."

  Stan stepped forward. "Ralph, I'm arresting you on the charges of harboring stolen goods."

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ralph threw up his hands. "Now wait just a hot minute! You're saying I've gone around and stolen a bunch of family albums from the residents of Seaside?"

  "That's EXACTLY what I'm saying," said Stan, getting his handcuffs out.

  "You don't even know if they have been reported stolen," Ralph pointed out.

  "He does have us there, boss," said Fred, conceding the point.

  "And we called you to report the break in," Ralph continued. "Why would I report a break in if I was trying to hide stolen goods?"

  "I am up for a promotion," Stan stated, "and I'll not have some two-bit huckster try to distract me from my sworn duty."

  "Two-bit huckster? Stan, I will remind you I was catching you stealing stuff from my dumpster when you were a teenage child. Now quit this nonsense and figure out what's actually going on!"

  Stan backed off, his face flushing red with embarrassment. "You won't report that, would you? Statute of limitations and all..."

  Ralph waved him away. "No, I'm not going to report you. But I'm also not going to let you go arresting me with this cockamamie story you've concocted. You find out if anyone has had anything stolen and you tell them to come down here and get their stuff because I sure as heck ain't going to pay to have it hauled off to the dump." He motioned around the room. "Now, since nothing is missing and there is no criminal hiding, I'm going to have to tell you gentlemen to get out so I can get back to my show." He explained to me, "It's the national ballroom championships on PBS."

  "Ooo! I'm watching that, too!" said Fred, excitedly.

  "It's Natasha and Dimetri’s year," Ralph informed him.

  "That's what I've been saying." Fred checking his watch. "We still have time."

  I'm not sure if Stan was more irked that there was no criminal, or that Fred and Ralph had taken a united front on the dance competition, but Stan decided to take out his frustrations on me. "I thought you said that this wasn't a hoax." Stan waved his finger in my face. "False reporting is a crime, Comber, and you're walking a very thin line."

  "Someone did break in and dump some stuff in the middle of his storeroom," I pointed out.

  Stan glared at me. "Don't go distracting me with facts." He waved at Fred. "Come on. If I missed Jerome and Gennifer’s performance for nothing..."

  He and Fred walked out. I heard Fred mutter, "This is Dimetri's year..."

  Ralph walked over to a window by the fire escape. I heard him mutter something under his breath about idiots. The window was open just a crack. "Well, this is how he must've gotten in," he said. He fixed the broken latch with the wire hanger and gave an exhausted groan as he walked past the stack of stuff. "More junk to get rid of."

  I placed my hand on his arm. "We'll find out who this belongs to. And if not, keep it here for Granny."

  Ralph shook his head and headed back down. "Well, if those fools find whoever broke in, I'm gonna tell them they should have taken something instead of leaving something."

  But as he left, I suddenly heard a noise. I turned back and the wire holding the window closed had popped off and the glass was open again. I walked over, curious. There was nothing there. I refixed it extra tight.

  "Must've been a ghost..." I muttered.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The next afternoon, I was working at the counter. Johnny had stopped by to see if
we had any leftover cinnamon rolls from the morning and I was more than happy to bag them up. Granny was getting ready to head over and talk to Ralph about the building and that pile of stuff. According to her posse, Stan and Fred had done door-to-door canvassing to see if they could find the owners. It appeared to be things people had offloaded at garage sales or dropped off at our donation center. There was no telling how it got into Ralph's building.

  Johnny sat there in amazement as I filled him in. But before we could fully get into it, Echo wandered in.

  Johnny placed his hands on the side of his face and shouted, "ECHO! Echo... echo..." across the store like he was standing on the lip of the Grand Canyon.

  Echo's lips pursed. "Never gets old, Johnny."

  I'm pretty sure if Johnny wasn't his bread and butter right now, he'd leave in an insulted huff. But he stayed. He was still a little green around the gills, but on his feet.

  "Glad to see you're alive," I said.

  He shook his head, bitterly. "They said it was just a 24-hour flu," he grumbled, "but I still think I was poisoned." He pointed to the menu board. "Could I get a peppermint tea?"

  "Sure thing," I replied, trying to be gentle as I could be. The guy was not exactly a "peppermint tea" kind of person, so I knew he was feeling even rougher than he looked, which was pretty bad.

  I handed over the bag of pastries to Johnny and he opened them up. "Want one of these?" he asked, pulling out one of the gooey, yeasty rolls.

  The sight of them pushed Echo right to the edge of hurling in the middle of the shop floor. "No, man. I'm still not quite myself."

  Johnny shrugged as he bit in. "Suit yourself."

  I grabbed a cup and filled it with the hot water, then set the tealeaves to brew. "Well, I'm glad you're okay," I said. "Feeling sick isn't any fun."

  But suddenly, Tango came storming in. Echo winced at the noise.

  Meanwhile, I winced because Tango pointed his finger at my face angrily and started shouting at me for absolutely no reason. "What is this I hear about you and Johnny leading ghost tours? And that you planted someone in the hardware store pretending to be a ghost?"

  "DUDE! Chill out. That is so not what happened. It was a break in," said Johnny. He leaned forward to clarify. "And not like the 1980s cult classic break dance movie."

  Tango folded his meaty arms across his chest, ready to throw down his facts. "Really? Because I heard from your tourists that they saw a ghost."

  "No," I said, handing Echo his tea. "It was probably just some teenager causing trouble. There was a window with a broken latch. And even when Ralph fixed it, the wire latch popped off by itself and the window opened."

  I had meant it just to mean that the window was not secure and someone could have easily broken in. However, Tango and Echo looked at one another with excitement, their animosity forgotten for just a moment.

  "A poltergeist," Echo said, reverently. "A real, live poltergeist." He pulled out his phone. "I gotta post this on the Most Haunted message board." He paused to double-check with me. "And you actually witnessed this?"

  "Um, I was standing there, but I don't think—" I started to say.

  But Echo cut me off, turning his back on me to discuss this new information with Tango. "She's been there for both of the instances in the hardware store. The paint pans AND the window latch. The psychic activity in that site is off the charts..."

  Tango pointed at Echo. He was practically trembling with excitement. "Don't you dare try to claim this discovery. This is MY story. I'm the one who asked her about it while you were ordering..." he sniffed in the general direction of Echo's drink, "...a peppermint herbal tea? Seriously, dude."

  "I'm feeling rough, OKAY?" Echo regathered his dignity. "Listen, it was MY tour group that saw the face in the first place and MY employee who was there to witness the latch moving itself."

  I corrected him. "I'm not your employee."

  "You were on the tour taking care of my customers."

  "But—"

  "And I hear you were carrying my ghost box."

  "Yes, but—"

  "Then you are a part of my team."

  Johnny raised his hands in celebration. "Welcome to the team, Paige!"

  "No, I'm not—"

  Echo took out a wad of cash from his pocket. "Here's the tips Johnny gave me from last night. I wasn't there, so these are yours." He shoved them into the Bitter Beans tip jar and mashed them around in the money already there.

  I sighed, defeated. Even if I fished the dollars out, there was no way of knowing if I would be over or under paying Echo, and I sure as heck wasn't going to short myself or Granny for this idiot. "Fine," I said.

  "I need to know everything you saw," said Echo, urgently.

  "I already told you," I replied.

  "This is going to be the find of the century!" he exclaimed.

  Tango leaned toward me and threatened, "You can either tell us what happened or we can ask Ralph for his side of this story."

  I rolled my eyes. "Don't go bothering Ralph with this," I cautioned. "He's old and mad enough over all the crap whoever broke in brought."

  "Wait. There was stuff brought in there?" Tango asked.

  "Yeah, a bunch of old photo albums and antiques some people sold at a garage sale."

  Echo and Tango suddenly faced each other, electrified. It made me wonder if they had always been sworn enemies. They were both buzzing to share this discovery with the other.

  "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Echo asked.

  "That the poltergeist brought us the artifacts he wants us to look at in order to bring him peace?" Tango replied, his eyes sparkling with the thrill of this find.

  "EXACTLY."

  They both turned to me in unison.

  "We need to see those albums," Echo stated.

  "It is a matter of paranormal security," Tango pressed.

  If these two idiots were determined to believe that some otherworldly specter had grabbed a bunch of stuff out of a donation box and left it for them, so be it. I tried really hard not to roll my eyes. "I'll see if Ralph gave them to Granny or what."

  Tango held up his palm. "I get to see them first," Tango stated for the record.

  I guess the moment of unity brought about by a common goal had been shattered.

  "Excuse me??" Echo retorted. He tried to square off with me. "You're MY employee."

  "They are GRANNY'S artifacts now and you can both look at them at the same time," I snapped.

  Echo and Tango were taken aback, but that, too, only lasted a moment. They exchanged a dark glance, like each of them was blaming the other for the fact I wasn't a ray of frickin' helpful sunshine.

  "I should get to work," Tango said.

  "And I," added Echo.

  They kept their eye on each other as they walked out, as if waiting for one of them to double-back and get dibs on the ghost junk.

  Johnny shook his head sadly. "They should both really explore the idea of living in the moment. Those two dudes are miserable."

  I heard Echo mutter, "I'll see them first..."

  Chapter Eighteen

  Granny came down from upstairs, her mules clacking against the bottom of her feet, as she put on her rhinestone-encrusted, pumpkin-shaped earrings. "You want to come with me?" she asked. "The hardware store is on the way to your cottage."

  "Isn't Richard coming?" I asked

  "He's on the mainland talking with the loan officer about the sale," she said, and then joked. "I'm pretty sure he is hiding out so he doesn't have to deal with Ralph and this mess."

  I had told Granny about the boys' desire to look at all the stuff discovered in the hardware shop. She was headed over now to see what was there and figure out next steps with Ralph, and whether or not that should include allowing two strangers to crawl around his storage room. I felt like she shouldn't have to go into that battlefield alone. I took off my apron and flipped the sign over to "Back at 5:00 PM" as Granny and I stepped outside.

  Being a Monday, mos
t people had gone back to work, but there were still a few tourists who decided to come enjoy the fall colors of our island in the daylight.

  We walked down the Main Street and headed around the corner toward the hardware shop. We opened up the old wooden door and Ralph was sitting quietly on his stool, waiting for customers.

  "Ralph!" Granny said, putting on the charm. "I hear you found a stack of stuff in your storage area."

  Suddenly the door opened behind us and Tango walked in.

  "Customers first," Ralph said to me and Granny as he turned to Tango. "What can I do you for?"

  "I hear you might have a ghost," Tango stated.

  It was totally the wrong thing to say, and I could see Ralph's face fall. "Of all the cockamamie..." he muttered. He asked Granny, "What can I do for you, Cindy?"

  But then the door opened again and Echo came in. I could see Ralph get a little excited until Echo said, "Oh. It's you, Tango. Are you here about the poltergeist, too?"

  "For the last time, there isn't a poltergeist!" Ralph practically exploded, waving his knobbly fists in frustration.

  Tango stepped forward like he was taking control of a hostage situation. "Now listen, I know you are selling this property, but how about making yourself a tidy profit between now and then," Tango offered.

  The mention of money seemed to have grabbed Ralph's attention. He rubbed his lower lip with his forefinger.

  "What do you have in mind?" Ralph replied.

  Tango presented the pitch like it was as easy as pie. "You let me bring my tour group into your space, maybe let me construct a couple of special effects upstairs, and you get a cut of all my ticket receipts."

  Ralph squinted. "Special effects?"

  Echo suddenly stepped forward. "Or you allow ME to bring in my groups and I respectfully leave your property the way it is and I give you a cut."

  Tango countered. "I'll have to buy tools and supplies to build my special effects, which I will, of course, do from your shop."

  It was music to Ralph's ears. "Tools, you say?"

  "AND supplies."

  "No chance you'd need a hand?" he said. "I've always wanted to build a haunted house."