What's A Ghoul To Do? Part 24

Steven nodded. "She did. By the time I came to visit my grandfather and learned the truth of my father's character, I already had it in my head that I wanted to be a great doctor too."

"Your grandfather must have loved that. The son he has to push into that career, but his grandson goes into it willingly."

"Yes. Anyway, my grandfather insisted I have the best education possible. He and my mother discuss this, and she suggests a boarding school in Germany. Her cousin married a German and they live close to the school, so I had family nearby to make me less lonely."

"You must have missed your mother," I said, watching Steven's face closely.

"Oh, believe me, I did. But I saw her on holidays and when she would come to stay with me during the summer to visit with my grandfather here. In the end, it was for the best. I got to learn German and English, and I can say that I've traveled the world."

"So you speak three languages?" I asked, rather fascinated by how worldly Steven was.

"Five. I also speak French and Italian, but English is my most rusty language."

I gave him a wink and asked, "Your father really never wanted anything to do with you? He never made any attempt at all to get to know you?"

"None. Which is why I believe that my grandfather left his fortune to me, and not my father. He knew that Steven would never acknowledge me as his rightful heir, so by naming me in his will, he could ensure that I was really a Sable."

"Did your father know you were going to inherit everything?"

Steven smiled. "Oh, I doubt it. Word leaked to me in Germany that he ... uh ... when you're so angry you go kaboom?"

"Exploded?"

"Yes, that too. He went kaboom and exploded at the reading of the will."

I laughed. "Come on. Let's go check in on Gilley and see if he's found out anything further about our list of interesting people."

We left the restaurant and got back in the car, heading toward Helen's bed-and-breakfast. I looked lazily out the car window. With my full stomach and the grueling events of that day I found my eyelids feeling heavy. We stopped at one of the town's three stoplights, and I forced my eyelids open, trying to stay awake. Just then I saw Steven's father come out of a small, stand-alone building with a marquee that read, ROGER DILLON, ATTORNEY-AT-LAW. "Wait," I said, reaching over to squeeze Steven's arm. "Look over there."

"He seems to be everywhere we are, no?" Steven remarked as his father turned the corner and headed to a Rolls-Royce parked down the side street. Behind us another car tooted its horn. Steven put the gearshift into first, and again I put my hand on his arm. "Yes, and take a look at the sign above the store."

The driver behind us laid on the horn slightly longer this time. I saw Steven's jaw tighten as he noticed the sign, and then he stepped on the gas and pulled over to the curb, parking in front of Jeanie's Fabrics. Jeanie's Fabrics. "Let's go," he said, and hopped out. "Let's go," he said, and hopped out.

I followed suit, and we walked half a block to the building, pausing at the side street to see if the coast was clear of Steven Senior. It was, so we went in.

The interior of Roger Dillon's law office was a testament to taxidermy. A dozen or so stuffed and mounted animal heads laid claim to every wall and open surface of the lobby. No two heads were of the same species. There was a deer head, a bear head, and a fox head, along with more exotic creatures like a gazelle and a zebra. There was even the head of a rhinoceros, and I noticed that part of its horn had decayed with age and was starting to flake off.

The scene was like something out of an Alfred Hitchc.o.c.k movie. It was truly creepy.

The small room was paneled in dark wood, and a threadbare gray carpet covered the floor. The air hung heavy with the smell of must and old paper. There were two battle-hardened chairs that looked about as comfortable as sitting on the floor.

A little bell above the door had jingled when we came in, and from the back we heard a voice say, "Be right with you!"

"What is is this place?" Steven whispered. this place?" Steven whispered.

"The front lobby to the Bates Motel," I said.

"Can I help you?" a tiny man with round features and olive skin said from behind the counter.

"h.e.l.lo," Steven said, extending his hand to the man. "I'm Dr. Steven Sable. I thought I knew most of the townspeople, but I don't think we've ever met."

The man regarded Steven for a moment before shaking his hand. He couldn't be much taller than four and a half feet, but was colorfully dressed in a brown tweed suit and orange bow tie. He had large blue eyes and short white hair that stuck up in odd places. Overall, he reminded me of an Oompa Loompa.

"Good to finally meet you, Steven," the man said. "I knew your grandfather well. He and I had a few great hunting trips together, although I never could get him to come out on safari with me."

Steven smiled as he shook hands. "Are you the great hunter Roger my grandfather was always talking about?"

I could sense that Steven was lying. "Andrew talked about me?" Roger said, his little chest puffing up.

"He did. He said you were a very good hunter."

Roger smiled broadly. "I never knew he felt that way. He used to tease me a lot about all my trophies," he said, waving his hand at the walls. "But maybe it was just his way. Say, did you know you just missed your father?"

"Did we?" Steven replied casually. "That's too bad. I would have liked to catch up with him."

"I didn't know you two were speaking," Roger remarked. "But I suppose Andrew's death has brought you close after all these years."

"Mmmm," Steven said, allowing Roger to think what he liked.

"So what can I do you for?" Roger asked us.

Steven turned away from the counter and walked over to the closest wall to inspect the trophies there more closely. He said lightly, "I heard you were one of the last people to talk with my grandfather before he died. I was thinking you might wish to share what his final thoughts were, or what you two talked about."

A cloud seemed to cross over Roger's face. "I'm afraid I can't do that," he said. "It's confidential."

Steven turned away from the trophy wall. "How could it be confidential? My grandfather is dead. I don't think he would mind if you shared this with us."

"He might not mind, but the other party involved would."

Steven cut me a quick look, and said, "Ah. I see. Is that a grizzly bear?"

Roger beamed. "Why, yes, it is. But the real beauty is in my office. I got a polar bear about ten years ago up in Canada. They're one of the most ferocious predators on earth, you know."

"You are making a joke with me," Steven said. "You shot a polar bear?"

"Yep. Had him stuffed and mounted. That set me back one pretty penny, let me tell you!"

"Can I see it?" Steven asked excitedly.

"Sure, come on back and I'll show you." Roger waved his arm as he turned to walk back down the corridor.

Steven turned to me. "Coming?"

"Actually, I'm p.o.o.ped, and I'd love to take a minute and just rest. I'll stay right here while you boys go have your fun." And with that I sat in one of the weathered chairs.

Steven and Roger disappeared down the hallway while I put my head back against the wall and closed my eyes. About the time I was beginning to nod off, I heard someone clear his throat.

Opening one eye, I saw Roger standing by the counter. "You two done swapping hunting stories?" I asked.

Roger beamed at me. "Your boyfriend says he doesn't hunt, which is a shame, because he sure seems interested in it. He's in the men's room. He told me to come check on you and make sure you weren't mad, since we took so long."

"I'm not mad," I said, sitting up and yawning.

Roger fiddled with his blazer as he seemed to struggle to come up with a topic that didn't involve guns, wild animals, or taxidermy. I stood up and stretched, hoping Steven wouldn't be too much longer. "You and Andrew were close, huh?" I asked, trying to fill the uncomfortable silence.

"No, not really. We were both members of the Uphamshire Hunting a.s.sociation, but he preferred duck and quail, while I like more challenging game. We didn't see each other regularly outside meetings."

"Ah," I said with a nod. This man was dull, dull, dull. "What kind of law do you practice?"

"I dabble in a little bit of everything," Roger said. "From real estate and tax law to divorce and separation, with a little bit of bankruptcy thrown in for good measure. I'm the only lawyer in town, so it's good to be well versed in a lot of different areas."

"I see. Say, Roger, maybe you can help me out. I really have to say that I love this area, and I'm considering purchasing a vacation home. Are there any Realtors you could recommend?" I was thinking about what Mirabelle had said, that she was being chased by a Realtor with an out-of-town couple who wanted to buy her home. Something about it seemed fishy, and I wanted to check it out.

"There's only one Realtor in this area, Curt Bancroft. He's on Main and Second Street. We send each other business now and then."

"Thanks, Roger." Just then Steven reappeared, holding his stomach a little and wearing a sheepish look.

"Sorry," he said. "That chili I had for lunch had an argument with my stomach. M.J., you ready?"

"Sure am. Nice meeting you, Roger."

"Likewise," he said, and watched us go.

When we were clear of the building I said, "Chili, huh? I could have sworn I watched you down a burger."

"What time do you have?" Steven asked, avoiding my comment.

"Four thirty," I said. "Why?"

"Follow me," he said, and crossed the street into a hardware store.

"What are we doing here?" I said when we'd made it inside.

"How you say to make the minutes go by while you are waiting?"

"Pa.s.sing time."

"Yes, we are pa.s.sing time for now," he said as he pulled me down an aisle lined with garden hoses and lawn tools. I gave him a quizzical look, and all he said was, "I will explain to you in a half hour. Just follow my leadership for now."

We puttered around the hardware store long enough to catch the attention of the proprietor. "Can I help you?" a skinny man with a really bad comb-over asked.

"We are just borrowing," Steven said.

"Browsing," I said quickly. "He meant to say browsing." I said quickly. "He meant to say browsing."

"Uh-huh," the skinny man said, not believing us for a second. "Let me know if I can help you," he finished, and sidled back to his seat at the counter, where he watched us like a hawk.

"Now what time is it?" Steven asked me.

"Five after five," I told him. "And anytime you want to fill me in on what you're up to would be okay by me."

"We'll wait another ten minutes; then we'll leave. Help me look for something to buy. That man at the counter is looking angry."

We bought some washers, a few screws, and a wrench for a whopping five ninety-five and exited the store. I followed close behind Steven as we made our way back across the street. I was really curious about what he was up to, but something told me I wasn't going to like it.

Steven paused in front of the now darkened attorney's office and peeked through the window. I was beginning to wonder about him, as he seemed far too comfortable peeping in on people. Turning to me, he said, "Around back." Then he moved off from the door and motioned for me to follow him. When we got around to the other side I stopped in my tracks when I saw what he intended to do. "No way!" I said as I watched him tug on a window about shoulder high.

"Yes way," he said sternly. "Now come. I need you to go through here and open the back door. The window is too small for me, so you will have to go."

"Are you outta your friggin' mind?" I asked him without budging. "That's breaking and entering! What if there's an alarm? What if a cop rolls up? What if Roger is still in there?"

Steven gave me a level look. "I am in my mind, M.J. There is no alarm, and there is only one sheriff here, who is most likely on the highway giving out tickets. Roger has left for the evening. He told me he was having dinner tonight with an old friend and he won't be back until tomorrow. We can get in and get out without causing notice. Now come on."

I noted that he failed to comment on the breaking-and-entering thing, and it irritated me that he was ignoring my pleas for common sense. Instead he had his hands cupped and his legs braced, ready to toss me through the window without any regard for my squeaky-clean record.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," I grumbled as I walked over and put my foot in his hands. "Just in case you were wondering, this is going to cost you extra."

"Send me the bill," he said, and hoisted me up. I wasn't prepared for how quickly I'd be shoved through, and landed hard on the other side.

"Owwww!" I said from the inside of the bathroom, noticing only now that my head had barely missed the toilet. "This is so gross," I said, getting up to brush off my hands.

"The back door is out the bathroom and to the left," Steven said as he poked his head through the window.

I grumbled as I exited the bathroom, rubbing my hands together and thinking about how many germs I'd just had a close encounter with, when I b.u.mped into something very large and very furry. I stumbled and inhaled sharply as I felt claws dig into my back. "Yikes!" I squealed, and whirled away, pressing my back against a wall and taking great big gulps of air.

"M.J.?" I heard Steven call from outside the back door. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," I called. "Just b.u.mped into Pete the polar bear." I looked up and up and up at the mounted thing, which had to be twelve feet tall. I gave a shudder and continued around to the back door. I let Steven in and then went back outside, where I turned and stared at him, folding my arms and giving him a look that meant business.

"What are you doing?" he asked me.

"I'm staying out here," I said. "I want no part of this, so whatever you're going to do in there, go do it and I will be out here, safe, sound, and minding my own business."

Steven gave me a scowl. "But I need your help," he said. "It will go much quicker if you are along."

"And if we get caught we go to jail. I don't know about you, but I hear that prison can be a real drag."

"You're not going to prison," Steven said, blowing out a sigh. "I have money, M.J. People with money don't go to jail."

"Really?" I said, putting my hands on my hips. "Tell that to Martha Stewart and Leona Helmsley."

"Please?"

"No."

"I'll pay you extra."

"How much extra?"