Ghostly Deceits Part 1

GHOSTLY DECEITS.

A HARPER HARLOW MYSTERY BOOK THREE.

LILY HARPER HART.

ONE.

"I f this was the zombie apocalypse I would shoot you in the leg and leave you behind so I could make my getaway."

Harper Harlow rolled her eyes and tried to ignore her best friend Zander Pritchett's words as she crouched behind a large tombstone and c.o.c.ked her head to the side, listening as she tried to get a feeling for where Archibald Bingham Nedstrom with a name like that, of course he would be a pain hid.

"Did you hear me, Harper?" Zander hissed, lowering himself so he was at eye-level with Harper. "I would shoot you in the leg and let the zombies eat you so I could escape. That's how angry I am with you."

Harper loved Zander dearly including his dramatic fits but there were times she wanted to feed him to the zombies, too. This would be one of them. Thankfully the lifelong friends were not mired in a zombie apocalypse. No, flesh-eating mutants weren't coming to eat their brains. Instead Harper and Zander co-owners of Ghost Hunters, Inc. were trying to capture a ticked off ghost.

"I heard you, Zander," Harper replied, her tone clipped. "You would shoot me and leave me for dead. However, I want you to know that I would survive the gunshot, outsmart the zombies, and sneak into your house when you were sleeping later that night so I could replace all of your Egyptian cotton sheets with polyester blends."

Zander's mouth dropped open as the potential horror washed over him. "That's the meanest thing you've ever said to me."

"How is that meaner than saying you want me to be eaten by zombies?" Harper asked, frustrated.

"You know I break out if I have cheap sheets," Zander said.

"Whatever," Harper muttered, jolting when she heard someone moaning over her left shoulder. She risked a glance and found the spot empty, although something was close ... and she had a feeling it was Archibald. "I think he's trying to draw us away from the tombstone and out into the open."

"Well, we're not doing that," Zander said, resting his back against the ornate tombstone in question and making a face. "I'm not doing anything a ghost wants me to do. I know we're supposed to be helping spirits move to the other side because it's a good thing, but this ghost is a douche."

Harper pursed her lips to keep from laughing. Zander was the only person she knew who would opt to run a ghost hunting business and yet hate ghosts. There was something almost ... poetic ... about his dislike of the spiritually displaced. "He's not a douche," she corrected. "He's ... ."

A potted plant from two graves over flew through the air and crashed against the tombstone Harper and Zander hid behind. Zander saw it a split-second before Harper lost her head and yanked her closer to the ground to protect her.

"You were saying?" Zander asked dryly.

Harper made a face. "He might be a douche."

"And I might be interested in men instead of women," Zander countered. "Come on! Admit he's a douche."

"I think it's because he has such a horrible name," Harper said, refusing to bow to Zander's demands. "You would be unhappy if you had that name, too."

"You have a point," Zander said. "That's still no reason to take it out on us. We didn't kill him. We aren't responsible for his douche-y soul still hanging around. We're definitely not responsible for him throwing that plant at us."

Harper sighed, resigned. "Fine, Zander. He's a douche. That doesn't change the fact that we've been hired for a job. We have to put him to rest. Whether he's a douche or not has absolutely no bearing on what we're doing."

Zander crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes. "You just don't want to admit that I'm right. That's what this is all about. You've never been able to accept the fact that I'm smarter than you."

"You are not smarter than me," Harper shot back. "We took IQ tests in college. Do you remember that? What did they say?"

"We got the exact same score," Zander answered.

"So how are you smarter than me?" Harper challenged.

"I have street smarts," Zander replied, tapping his temple for emphasis. "We're both book smart. On the street, though, you would be the first one plugged in a gang shooting. That's all I'm saying. It's not anything bad, but it is the way of the world we live in."

Harper wrinkled her nose. "In what world is that not anything bad?"

"My world," Zander answered, snapping his fingers in Harper's face for emphasis. "Now you need to focus on the problem at hand. Archibald is a douche. We're in a cemetery after dark and I told you I would never do that so I still can't figure out how you convinced me it was a good idea. We've been hired to put his soul to rest and we're supposed to be home by nine because Jared is grilling steaks."

Harper smiled at the mention of her boyfriend Jared Monroe. They'd only been dating for a few weeks, but even the idea of seeing him was still thrilling. He was a police officer who accepted her ghost hunting ways. In her mind he was practically perfect. It didn't hurt that he was smoking hot either.

"Oh, wipe that goofy grin off your face," Zander chided. "You get all moony whenever his name comes up like you're in a PG romance novel, which is funny because you get h.o.r.n.y whenever you see him in person, like you're in a p.o.r.n movie. Now, I'm not begrudging you a nice roll in the hay. Lord knows you deserve it given your life of loneliness before Jared, but now is not the time to lose your head in his dreamy eyes."

"I wish you would stop calling Jared's eyes dreamy'," Harper said. "It freaks him out."

"They are dreamy."

"I know, but he's still getting used to the fact that you climb into bed with us some mornings to tell me about your date the previous evening," Harper said. "He's having trouble adjusting to our lack of inhibitions."

"Why should we have inhibitions?" Zander challenged, lifting his head when he heard Archibald moan and throw something against the nearby mausoleum. "Knock it off! We're having an important discussion. Stop being a douche for five minutes and then we'll get to you. Sheesh!"

"I think it's odd for Jared because another guy is sharing a bed with both of us," Harper said, choosing her words carefully. "He's really worried we're going to be naked when you try it one morning."

"You lock the door when you're naked," Zander countered. "I know because I've tried going in several other mornings. That's how you missed the story when I broke up with Adam because he had mushrooms growing between his toes."

"He didn't have actual mushrooms," Harper argued. Zander always found a reason to fall in love and then he found another reason ten seconds later to fall out of love. The reasons were getting more and more dramatic. "He had Athlete's Foot. That's not the same thing as growing mushrooms between your toes."

"Athlete's Foot is a fungal infection," Zander said.

"I know."

"What are mushrooms?"

"They're technically a fungus," Harper said, seeing where Zander was going with the comparison. "It's still not the same thing."

"It's gross," Zander said.

"You have issues."

"We're not talking about my issues right now," Zander said. "We're talking about Jared's issues. Are you saying I can't visit you on mornings when he sleeps over because he's h.o.m.ophobic?"

Harper knit her eyebrows together. "I'm pretty sure that's not even remotely what I said." She caught a hint of movement out of the corner of her eye and shifted so she could watch Archibald float closer. He seemed interested in them and yet angered by their presence at the same time.

"No. You said Jared doesn't like it when I get in bed with you and gossip because he doesn't want me to see him naked. Like I would jump him or something because my hormones are out of control and I'm a deviant. I get it."

Harper recognized the obstinate tilt of Zander's chin and inwardly groaned. Not only was she never going to hear the end of this, but now he was going to take a pa.s.sive aggressive approach with Jared until things exploded into a screaming match. That had "nightmare" written all over it.

"That's not it," Harper argued. "He's just terrified you're going to come in when we're ... you know ... doing it."

This time it was Zander's turn to make a face. "Seriously? If you're having s.e.x, you should be able to talk about it."

"Don't take that tone with me," Harper warned. "It's not my fault you keep making jokes about morning wood' as you're climbing under the covers. Jared likes you. He's just ... uncomfortable ... sharing a bed with you."

"I see how it is," Zander said, his tone shifting in pitch. "We've been best friends since we were five and now that you've got a boyfriend who can't deal with the utter fabulous nature of my being, I'm the odd man out. I get it."

"That's not it," Harper said, hating how whiny she sounded. "You know I love you more than anything in this world. You're the best friend I've ever had. I don't have a problem with you crawling into bed with us so you can tell me about your date.

"You just need to stop talking about him waxing his chest, changing from flannel to silk boxers, and generally commenting on the size of his nipples," she said.

"I'm sorry, but they're freaky nipples," Zander said. "If I was dating Jared we'd have to get them shaved down or something. I think they're big."

"They're nipples, Zander," Harper snapped. "They look like normal nipples."

"They're bigger than mine."

"Have you ever considered that your nipples are freakishly small?"

"Of course not," Zander scoffed. "We both know I could be a nipple model."

"There's no such thing as a nipple model."

"I'll bet you twenty bucks nipple models exist," Zander challenged. "I'm going to look it up when we get home."

"I can't wait."

"And when I do, I'm going to take photos of my nipples and Jared's nipples and send them to a talent agent so he can judge which ones are better," Zander added.

"I can't wait to see how you explain why you're taking photos of Jared's nipples to him," Harper said. "That's not going to make him feel uncomfortable at all. Have you considered that things like this are exactly why he's weirded out when you hop into bed with us?"

"You're my best friend," Zander countered. "It's not weird to gossip in bed with your best friend. Would he have a problem if another woman climbed into bed with you?"

"Probably not," Harper conceded. "I think that's every straight man's favorite fantasy. I would have a problem if Jared's female best friend hopped into bed with us, though."

Zander arched a challenging eyebrow. "Even if she was gay?"

"Even if," Harper confirmed. "It's weird. I want Jared focused on me when we're in bed together. I can see why it bothers Jared for me to focus on you when I'm in bed with him. Are you honestly saying you wouldn't have a problem if the guy you were dating brought a third guy into bed?"

Zander's features took on a whimsical look. "That sounds like the perfect Sat.u.r.day night."

Harper made a face that would've been comical under different circ.u.mstances. "You say that because you think it makes you sound cool, but we both know that would be the worst night of your life. Can you imagine the faults you would find with two men to focus on?

"Think of all the unevenly trimmed toenails," she continued. "Think of the rampant nose hair. That's double the chance for briefs. That's double the chance for b.u.t.t hair. Heck, that's double the chance for pit stains."

"You really know how to take the joy out of a fantasy," Zander groused, although his expression softened. "I kind of get what you're saying about Jared. I didn't think it was a big deal when I crawled into bed with you guys because I don't see female parts when I look at you. I just see my best friend Harper. You don't have female parts as far as I'm concerned.

"From his perspective he sees a romantic rival with better muscles and abs," he continued. "It has to be torture for him."

Harper bit her lip to keep from laughing. Of course Zander would take her comments that way. "I ... that probably is what he's worried about. I'm sure he doesn't want to admit it, though, so you might not want to bring it up when you see him."

"Of course not," Zander said, waving Harper's concerns away. "I don't want to upset him or make him feel inferior due to my G.o.dlike ways. I understand. From now on, I'll only crawl into bed with you when you're alone."

"I'm sure that will make him feel better," Harper said, grinning at the thought. "Speaking of Jared, though, I'm hungry. We should get this show on the road."

"We definitely should do that," Zander agreed. "Where did Archie the Douche go?"

Harper pointed to Archibald's serene spirit as he floated a few feet away, seemingly engrossed in their conversation. "I think he's calmer now. He's floating right there and watching us. He probably saw the way we interacted and the love we have for one another and remembered his life before it was so tragic."

"Yeah, that sounds exactly like what happened," Zander said, sarcasm practically dripping from his tongue. "Did our friendship touch you, Archibald? Is that why you're listening?" He couldn't see ghosts, but he believed Harper when she told him Archibald was close.

"No." Archibald shook his ethereal head.

"What did he say?" Zander asked.

Harper ignored the question. "What calmed you down?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"I've now officially seen everything," Archibald answered, making a face. "You two are sick, by the way."

"We're here to help you," Harper argued. "There's a better place for you out there if you let go of this life and the hate keeping you here."

"Hate isn't keeping me here," Archibald argued.

"What's keeping you here?"

"I get my jollies in weird ways like your friend here," Archibald replied, inclining his chin in Zander's direction. "Well, not exactly the same way. I still like a good fight, though."

"Are you ready to move on?" Harper asked hopefully. "Do you want to see what's waiting for you when you crossover?"

Archibald tilted his head to the side, the mausoleum visible through his filmy countenance. "I'm good."

Harper stilled, surprised. "You're good?"

"I don't want to leave," Archibald said. "I'm happy here."

"But you're alone," Harper prodded. "Don't you want to move on and be with your loved ones?"

"They were royal jacka.s.ses for the most part, so I'm good," Archibald said. "In this place I get to nap when I want, scare people whenever the mood strikes, and occasionally see people do the dirty because there's some sort of cemetery club that's supposed to be like the Mile High Club. Why would I want to leave that?"

Harper was floored. "But ... people really sneak in and have s.e.x on graves? That's so gross."

"Is that what he said? That's really gross," Zander intoned. "Only freaks would do that."

"Says the guy who wants to take photos of another guy's nipples," Archibald deadpanned. "It doesn't matter, though. I'm not leaving and you can't make me."

Harper planted her hands on her narrow hips. "Archibald, I'm afraid that's simply not true," she said. "You can't stay here. The cemetery managers say you're terrorizing people. That girl you goosed the other day was only seventeen."