Free Death by Haunting by Abigail Keam Page B

feeling constipated.
    My landline phone was still on the nightstand.
    So far so good.
    Making sure the bedroom door was closed first, I dialed the number.
    One ring.
    Someone picked up on the other end.
    I whispered, “Rosebud.”
    A click sounded, ending the call. The person on the other end had hung up.
    Somehow, somewhere, someone would get a message to my daughter.
    And it would not be traced by anyone, as it was under the radar of modern technology.
    Sometimes the old ways are the best.

29
    T here was a knock on the door. “Are you decent?”
    “Who, me? Yeah, I’m decent.”
    Goetz opened the door and walked in. “The doc called and said your scans were fine. If you feel all right, I’d like to leave. Got things to do.”
    I was glad Goetz was going home. “No problem.” I followed him to the front door, which apparently had been repaired during my slumber. “Thank you for all your help.” I was about to close the door.
    He turned, facing me. “What’s the problem? Not good looking enough for you?”
    “Excuse me?”
    “I’ve done everything but do cartwheels for you, lady, and I’m getting nowhere.”
    “I don’t know what you mean?”
    “You know damn well what I mean. There’s no sizzle, no juice from you.”
    “You want juice? Go to a juice bar.”
    “You owe me.”
    “I don’t owe you a damn thing.”
    Goetz shook his head. “If you only knew.”
    “I just got conked on the head and knocked out. How sexy can I be, you jerk? Is that why you’ve helped me through this? Thought I was gonna come out in a skimpy nighty and say, ‘Hey, Mister Policeman, thanks so much for helping little old me. Show me your nightstick!’”
    “I’ll show you something,” growled Goetz. Grabbing me, he enveloped me in his thick arms and tilted my head back.
    I pushed against him. “Let go,” I demanded. “You’re a pig.”
    “Shut up,” whispered Goetz. “You talk too much.” His lips pressed against mine.
    I started to struggle but his grip was like iron . . . and then I stopped. Goetz smelled like the ocean, big and expansive and full of life. I don’t know why the ocean smells like that, but it does.
    Jake had always reminded me of the woods. He smelled of moss, trees and dark, rich earth. But Goetz was the ocean. I felt my feet in hot sand and heard the crashing of the waves.
    Suddenly Goetz pushed me away.
    I jerked my eyes open and there standing in front of us was Eunice with an amused smile on her face.
    “She’s all yours,” seethed Goetz as he bounded to his car.
    “Someone’s got a bee in his bonnet today,” remarked Eunice before trotting into the Butterfly.
    Watching Goetz leave, I was very, very confused.

30
    “Y ou’re not going to sue, are you, Josiah?” inquired June before sipping her tea.
    We were seated in the library before a roaring fire.
    “I don’t think so, but a bauble or two might make me happy,” I replied, eying the ruby and diamond leopard pin climbing down her left shoulder.
    “Can’t you wait until I’m dead to get some of your little baubles? You know which jewelry I’m leaving you.”
    “Why wait?” I replied.
    Jean Louis snickered before biting into an English tea biscuit.
    “I still don’t understand what happened,” June pouted.
    “I told you. I slipped and as I was falling, I must have hit my head against the wall and checked out for a while,” I lied. I tried not to snarl at Jean Louis, who I think was the dirty rotten skunk who’d hit me.
    “It all sounds rather curious to me,” she sniffed, “but the important thing is that you are fine. It’s just so strange that the elevator had been turned off, and then your fall. Yes, the whole matter is rather odd.”
    “Let’s forget about it, shall we.”
    I could see that June sensed something about the story was fishy, but she decided to let it go. “If you say so.”
    “I do say so.”
    “Then I have something to announce,” she preened.
    “Oh dear. Now what,” I muttered