Chapter Eleven
Callie
Damn, LeBlanc, I thought you had more sense than this.”
The next morning, Detective Alex Autry of the Petite C?te Island Police Department rested his hands on his hips, looking at Trey with exasperation.
If the man’s posture and the embroidered logo on his shirt hadn’t declared him to be a cop, then the gold star on the lanyard around his neck would have.
Last night, after Callie had convinced him she’d had nothing to do with the “note from beyond” and the vandalism, Trey had contacted the local police. But since there was only one detective on the island and it was his night off, Trey had agreed that first thing in the morning would be soon enough.
“I’ll make sure this place is locked,” he’d told Callie. “But just in case, I want you to jam a chair under your doorknob. And I’ll sleep in the room across from yours.”
She’d opened her mouth to protest, but Trey refused to listen to her protests.
“It’s my lackadaisical attitude that let these jokers think they can get away with this stuff for so long.
” He’d run his hand through his hair, and Callie had no doubt that he was well and truly agitated by the invasion of what had been his home up until she’d inherited it.
“Damn, Callie, something really bad could have happened to Stella while we were gone. And they used Khaki to try to get to me this time. That’s just cruel.
Anybody who would stoop that low would do anything.
It’s not gonna hurt me to sleep in a different bed until we can figure out how they’ve been getting in. ”
So, she’d let him switch rooms without protest, and once she and Stella were safe in her suite, she’d shoved the back of the desk chair under the doorknob, and safe in the knowledge that Trey was across the hall, she’d fallen asleep.
Now, with a cup of coffee in her hand, she sat on the oversized sofa of the large room Trey used as a living room while Stella lay purring in her lap.
“Well?” Detective Autry asked Trey when he didn’t answer. “Why didn’t you tell us this was going on?”
Trey, who had been sitting on an overstuffed chair near the sofa with his elbows on his knees, leaned back at Autry’s question and his hands palms-out in surrender.
“I thought it was just some juvenile delinquents jerking my chain. This place has been on the kids’ radar ever since that article online named the library as one of the ten most haunted island locations on the Gulf coast. Never mind that there’s only ever been one ghost story associated with it.
And there hasn’t been a sighting of the helpful priest since before the college moved inland. ”
Callie remembered stumbling across the article when she was researching the history of the college that the library had been a part of.
The ghost story had been mentioned in several articles about urban legends set on college campuses.
The tale stated that a student was studying for finals in the library late one night and a Jesuit professor they ran into in the stacks offered to help them.
After the prof’s help, the student ended up acing the final.
But when they got back to the library and asked the person at the reference desk for the professor by name, the reference clerk gasped and said that professor had been dead for years.
Aloud she said, “But if it’s the dead professor story, then why would they even think the ghost would be here?
I mean logically, the ghost has no reason to be here if there are no students.
Aside from the fact that there’s no such thing as ghosts. ”
Detective Autry sighed. “You’d be surprised how many people around here buy into all that ghost stuff. Don’t forget New Orleans is the closest big city, and that place has made hauntings and voodoo into an industry of its own.”
“Not to mention,” Trey said dryly, “these kids aren’t exactly big on logic. Most of ’em are just trying to create some excitement while they’re stuck here for the summer with their parents.”
“Or if they’re year-round islanders, they’re trying to impress the summer people,” Autry said with a shrug.
“In fact, the way they used Miss Khaki’s name for you seems to indicate they’re local.
Though it also seems to suggest this isn’t kids, Trey.
I mean, most of them weren’t even alive when Miss Khaki still lived here. ”
“You think it’s an adult?” Callie asked, feeling a frisson of unease run through her. “Why would they do that? Kids playing pranks is one thing, but an adult would need a solid reason to go to this kind of trouble.”
“That’s a good question,” Autry said with a pointed look in Trey’s direction. “Do you know of anybody who’d have a reason to want you out of this place? You or the new owner?”
“No.” Trey scowled. “It’s not like there’s treasure hidden somewhere in here.
And as far as I know, there haven’t been any offers to buy the place in decades.
Not that you’d know it, but it’s kind of a money pit to keep up.
Any beachfront property is a constant battle against the elements, and a place this big takes a lot of work. ”
“That makes sense,” the detective said with a nod. Then turning to Callie he asked, “And you don’t know of any reason someone would want to keep you out of here?”
Callie glanced over to where Trey was once more leaning forward, elbows on knees.
She might as well tell the truth, she decided, If Alex picked up any local gossip he probably knew already.
“Besides Trey, you mean? No. Up until a couple of weeks ago, my knowledge of Petite C?te Island was limited to what Miss Khaki told me. And she certainly didn’t tell me any deep, dark secrets about the place that would inspire a campaign of fake hauntings.
Most of her stories had to do with her college days when she fell in love with Remy and happy times after they turned it into a home. ”
At her mention of Trey, Alex shot his friend a sharp look. “And just for the record, you aren’t the one doing this, right? Because that would be a good reason for you to avoid bringing it to the police.”
Trey scowled. “Alex, you know me. I might be disappointed that Khaki didn’t leave this place to me, but I wouldn’t do this. Especially not to the person she chose to inherit it. Did I maybe consider letting this haunting thing run its course so that Callie might decide to leave on her own?”
At his question, Callie let out a little gasp. She wasn’t sure why she felt so betrayed at the thought—she barely knew the man. But she’d begun to feel like they were a team fighting against the ghost. That just showed how poor a judge of character she was.
“I’m sorry, Callie. But I didn’t make any secret of being mad about you inheriting.
” He stood up and stalked over to the window and gazed out for a minute.
Then turning back to her, he continued. “And after that first night with the Halloween cats, I did consider it. But that was before I’d really spent any time with you.
After seeing you in town and how you got along with everybody at the crawfish boil last night, I saw that I hadn’t been fair to you.
And you saw how I reacted to that note last night. I’m not that good of an actor.”
Callie thought back to their interactions yesterday, and their easy camaraderie as they’d walked back to library from Bobby and Tricia’s house last night.
There had been a little while there when she’d felt a spark of attraction between them, though hearing him accuse her of being the one to orchestrate last night’s haunting had pretty much doused that tiny flame. At least for her.
She’d had enough of being blamed for things she had no control over during her years with her ex-boyfriend, who had held her responsible when he hadn’t made partner at his law firm.
Then again, when the mayoral candidate he’d worked for as chief of staff hadn’t won reelection.
She certainly wasn’t going to put up with it now from a man she barely knew.
Still, his reaction to the supposed note from Khaki last night had been genuine, she was certain of it.
And as fine a distinction as it was, he hadn’t been actively trying to make her leave.
He’d simply chosen to let the hauntings continue.
That it had taken a direct attempt to frighten him before he became angry enough to act was perhaps a dirty trick, but it wasn’t as if he’d been the one to put the note on Stella’s collar, or lock her in the storage room.
And he had just apologized, which was something Gabe hadn’t done without a great deal of prodding from her.
Alex cleared his throat then, and Callie was aware that she’d been silently considering this for longer than was probably comfortable for anyone but her. “Sorry,” she said to the two men. “I got distracted.”
To Trey, she added, “Apology accepted.” Though it would take some time for her to forget his deception, as minor as it may have been.
“OK, so if we’re past that,” Alex said with a nod toward Trey, his tone almost apologetic, “is there anybody who can verify these previous pranks you said have been going on for the past few months?”
As Callie watched, a muscle in Trey’s jaw jumped, and he took in a deep breath.
“If I didn’t know you were only doing your job, Autry,” he said tightly, “I’d kick your ass for asking that.”
Callie would have expected a police officer to take offense at such a threat, but clearly the two men had known each other for long enough that Autry was able to shrug it off.
“And since I am only doing my job,” the detective said without repentance, “then you know why I had to ask. It just seems mighty convenient that you’ve got this story about months of being plagued by these late-night ghost noises happening before Miss Jameson’s arrival, but there’s no damage or mention of Miss Khaki from them until she gets here.
It’s not unreasonable to ask if anyone can corroborate your story. ”