“Loretta certainly needs to be in school, but she also needs answers to her questions. And if her father—” Evie cut off that thought at Loretta’s frown and switched to “—if a spirit is trying to speak through her, she needs to be with people who can help her. We can’t keep calling these poltergeist-like incidentsaccidents. She could be seriously harmed if the spirit misses his aim next time and drops a rock on her. I doubt seriously that skeptics like you will understand.”
The doorbell rang. Jax smirked, peeled himself off the wall he’d been holding up, and went to answer it as if the house were his.
Evie liked to think of herself as laidback and easy-going, or at least easily distractible, but Jax was quickly becoming a needle under her skin. She followed him to the door with some hope of forestalling whatever he’d plotted.
She came to a halt at sight of a man so much taller and broader than Jax as to make Macho Man almost seem average. Especially since Jax had a normal buzz cut, and this dude sporting a natural tan had shaved his head bald and tattooed his temples with what appeared to be Egyptian hieroglyphics.
He handed Jax a suitcase and flashed a metal-adorned smile at Evie. “Good vibes, bébé. Keep the faith.” He saluted her with a finger to a raised eyebrow sporting a steel ring, then swung on his heel with military precision and marched back into the spring darkness.
“You’ve just received the Titanium seal of approval. Where do I sleep? Upstairs, I assume?” Jax raised a questioning dark eyebrow and glanced at the stairs he’d yet to traverse.
The upstairs was Evie’s sanctum—and storage rooms for three generations of junk. She’d temporarily placed Loretta in her aunt’s room down here. This was never going to work.
“I’ll put Loretta upstairs with me,” she decided. “You can have Aunt Val’s room.” With Neil Diamond and the Monkees and lava lamps. In protecting herself, she’d found the perfect solution. If that room didn’t drive him screaming into the streets, nothing would. “You’ll be guarding the doors and keeping killers off the stairs.”
Eight
By midnight,Jax had the sixties museum tucked out of sight in the wardrobe and in a stack of boxes scavenged from the alley. He’d thrown in the colorful bedcover and shag rug as well. The four-poster was now stripped to barely acceptable blue sheets and the pine plank floor was bare. Remnants of old linoleum clung to the edges. The floor needed a good sanding and finish.
The 1940’s vanity held his sleek laptop. He’d not discovered any wi-fi to hack but his cell had a powerful hotspot. In an emergency, he could call in his team and their equipment. But he’d rather leave them to their illegal exploration of databases that might provide any information on Lakeland Development.
Jax was merely the guardian the firm had assigned to Loretta. He’d not worked with the Posts or on any of their business dealings.Lakelandwas a real estate project his father and the firm’s partners were working on.
He had the firm’s files on John Post open and was perusing the numbers and...deeds.
Didn’t Mavis mention yellowing deeds on a desk?
“How did you fit all Aunt Val’s stuff into those boxes?”
Jax jerked his head up to contemplate the genie in the doorway. Sadly, she wasn’t wearing shorts and halter but an aqua robe and what appeared to be whale slippers. “In the military, I learned to pack tightly. Any more ghostly revelations?”
“I’m pretty sure John Post isn’t buried in the Caribbean.” She picked up the cat that had followed her in and placed it on her shoulder.
“Authorities found the yacht floating upside down with no signs of life aboard. Their car was in the parking lot at the Charleston harbor where they usually docked the yacht. Evidence is pretty conclusive.”
“Circumstantial. Anyone could take the keys, drive the car, sail the yacht, jump on a waiting vessel, and abandon the yacht. They want you tobelievethe Posts are dead, and I believe they are, but why the elaborate ruse?”
“Why not believe they’ve been kidnapped as Loretta does?” Jax sat back in the too-small chair. When she talked logic, he listened, apparently.
“Loretta is trailing one spirit, possibly two. Who else would it be but her parents? I don’t know if they’re protecting her or their fortune, but they’re definitely warning me against you.” She studied the bare walls and his bed and shook her head. “Powerful magicians have better uses than interior decorating.”
“I require order. If I’m stuck here for any length of time, I’ll organize my space as needed. If you don’t like it, I’ll take Loretta and leave.” He deliberately ignored her spirit talk. Perhaps he could train her to talk sense.
“Maybe the ghost is warning you’ll organize my life.” She looked weary but amused. “For lack of a better identification, I’ll call him John. He’s trying to type on your computer.”
Jax swung around. The files he’d been looking at disappeared, replaced by a document index. The cursor hovered over a different file, and then the laptop went dark. The glass of water he’d been drinking flew off the vanity.
If the poltergeist was supposed to be John Post, he had a short fuse.
Interestingly, he recalled one of the partners talking about their client’s temper. He refused to wonder if Evie was reading his mind or had other means of knowing about Loretta’s father and had somehow performed the glass-throwing trick again.
“He’s gone.” She lifted her shoulder from the jamb. “You might try working with me sometime instead of against me. Could be interesting. You seem to have an affinity for ghosts.”
She left him trying to retrieve his internet connection.
An affinity for ghosts, right. The only work he wanted to do with the psychic genie was in bed.
He could hear her rattling pots in the kitchen. Once satisfied he hadn’t lost any of the firm’s files, Jax shut the computer down and followed her.