Maybe This Time Read online

  He’s loaded, May said, not judgmentally.

  “Harold says their names are Peter and Miss J,” Isolde said. “But they’re not communicating much else.”

  “Tell me how to get rid of the other two,” Andie said to May. “Okay, you can stay”—The hell you can—“but you must know how to get rid of them.”

  I don’t know anything about them, May said. Keep the fires going and you’ll be fine.

  “I had a fire going in the nursery. Somebody turned it off.”

  May stopped dancing. I made Crumb do it. I just wanted to be with North Archer. He liked me when he came down that first time. He was so beautiful and expensive, and he liked me, he told me he really appreciated everything I was doing with the kids, like I was doing him a favor . . .

  That was North, Andie thought. All that cool charm, and there was nineteen-year-old May—

  . . . and I thought he’d come back and then he’d love me, and I waited but he never did.

  “May,” Andie said.

  So I wrote him and asked for things, but I always got his secretary, and that’s when I decided it was time to take the kids to live with him. We’d all live with him. She swished her skirt again. And once I was there, he’d love me. I’m lovable.

  “Yeah, you probably were,” Andie said.

  I’m lovable NOW, May said, her face contorting for a moment, and Andie saw the empty eyes she’d seen that first night, the skull beneath the phantom skin May clung to.

  “All right,” Andie said.

  And then that bitch KILLED ME.

  “Harold says things are not good,” Isolde said. “I’m ending this.”

  “She killed you,” Andie said, talking fast, “so let’s return the favor. Let’s get rid of her. How do we do it?”

  May hesitated.

  “She stole your life,” Andie said. “For no reason, she took your life. Let’s end hers. Tell me something that will get rid of them.”

  There might be one thing, May said.

  • • •

  “Somebody’s been doping people here with salvia,” Gabe told North when they’d locked the satellite truck and were in the pantry with the tapes.

  “Salvia.” North shook his head. “Red flowers?”

  “Wrong branch of the family. I called Chloe and had her look it all up to make sure, but I remember this stuff. We caught Riley growing it out behind the agency once a couple of years ago. You know teenagers.”

  “I will very shortly. Carter’s twelve. What’s salvia?”

  “Salvia divinorum. Very old natural high, not dangerous, produces visions.”

  “Hallucinations,” North said, everything dropping into place.

  “Yep. It’s not illegal, it’s not addictive, and it doesn’t hurt anybody. It’s not a crime to grow it. I still kicked Riley’s ass, though.”

  “So how—”

  Gabe pulled the jug of tea out of the lineup of decanters. “I tasted this. It’s not tea.” He jerked his thumb at what North had thought was a bundle of dried herbs. “Somebody’s drying Salvia divinorum, steeping the dried leaves and, I will bet you anything, spiking your booze with it.”

  “Andie told me she drinks tea with a shot of Amaretto at night to sleep,” North said.

  “Which somebody spiked.” Gabe leaned back against the counter. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but I know why people see ghosts. They’ve been doped.”

  “You are a good man,” North said, more relieved than he thought possible. “Let’s go tell Andie.”

  But when they got to the doorway to the Great Hall and saw the séance in progress, Gabe stopped him.

  “It’d be smarter to watch this,” he told North in a low voice. “See who’s benefiting from people believing.”

  “It has to be Crumb,” North said. “She’s the one who’s been here with Andie and the kids the whole time.”

  “Yeah, but what if somebody is paying her to do it?”

  North looked at the people around the séance table, watching Andie talk to empty air. Southie wouldn’t drug Andie, but the rest . . .

  Isolde, whose reputation rested on ghosts being real.

  Dennis, who’d told him the night before that he could get a book sold if he ever really saw a ghost.

  And Kelly, who needed the fraud for her big comeback.

  “Okay,” he told Gabe. “Let’s watch.”

  There’s a piece of each of them someplace in the house, May said. I don’t know where, I’d tell you if I did, but there’s a piece from each of them. Find that and burn it. I think that’ll do it.

  “It didn’t do it for you,” Andie said. “You were cremated.”

  Part of me is here, too, May said. You said I could stay. But not them. That bitch killed me and I want her gone.

  “Okay, a piece of each of them. Like what? What are we looking for?”

  But May had turned and was looking at the thing that Alice called Miss J. Get rid of her. Burn her out. I HATE HER.

  The thing moved toward her, its empty eyes trained on her, and May laughed and went for it, and Isolde stood up and said, “End it, Harold, get them out of here,” and then they were gone, and the Great Hall was empty, and Andie sat back and thought, Something in the house.

  “I have no idea what just happened here,” Southie said. “Was any of that tape usable, Kelly?”

  “Yes,” Kelly said, all the animation in her voice gone when she looked at Southie. “Good, give it to me,” Southie said. “So Isolde and Andie can see it.”

  “I’ll make a copy of it for you.” Kelly stood up.

  “No, I’ll take the tape now.”

  “No, it’s the property of the station.”

  “But you didn’t have permission to tape here.”

  “Of course I did,” Kelly said, outraged. “Isolde and Andie—”

  “Don’t own the house and aren’t the guardians of the children.” Southie held out his hand to Bill. “You don’t really want to go to court for taping this, do you?”

  “No,” Bill said and handed the tape over.

  “Bill!”

  “Three of us,” Bill said, disgusted, and Kelly grabbed him by the arm and dragged him over to the window and began spitting words at him, too low for the others to hear.

  “Well, this has been a nightmare,” Isolde said to Andie.

  “May says we need to find something in the house that belonged to them,” she told Isolde. “There’s something of theirs here.”

  “We need to get the hell out of here,” Isolde said. “Harold says he doesn’t like it. He’s thinking about going back to Florida. And he hated Florida.”

  “I couldn’t see anything,” Flo said, sounding disappointed.

  “I couldn’t, either,” Southie said, cheerful again now that he had the tape. “It’s like listening to somebody else have a phone conversation. So explain to me again how I slept with a ghost?”

  Dennis got up and left the table and went back into the dining room.

  “Was it something I said?” Southie said.

  “Of course, Harold hates Ohio, too,” Isolde said. “The big thing is, Harold’s getting cold feet.”

  “He’s a ghost,” Southie said. “He always has cold feet.”

  Isolde glared at him and he shut up. “It’s too dangerous, Andie,” she said, serious as death. “No more séances, I won’t do any more.”

  “I just have to find out what it is that’s holding them here,” Andie told her. “I just need to know that.”

  “No. More. Séances,” Isolde said.

  “Then I’ll find out without you,” Andie said, and went to check on the kids before she searched the house.

  North watched her go, and said, “So what did you learn from that?” and Gabe shook his head.

  “I got nothing,” he said. “They’re all crazy.”

  North saw him to the front door and then went to look for Andie, finding her in the library with the kids. “I need to talk to you,” he told her, and when s