High Spirits [Spirits 03] Read Online Free

grouchy. I felt grouchy. “But I don’t like breaking the law, whatever I am. Especially for your sister’s sake.”
           “It’s not for Stacy’s sake, sweetie. I don’t like her any better than you do, but I do love my mother, and the poor dear is worried sick about Stacy.”
           “I know, I know.” What I wished was that someone would drive a stake through Stacy’s heart and rid the world of a blight. Sure, her daughter’s death would make Mrs. Kincaid sad for a while, but ultimately I’m sure we’d all be better off. Problems are seldom solved so handily, however, and I didn’t expect Fate to stick an oar in and help me out with Stacy. Fate wasn’t exactly my bosom pal. Nevertheless, I gave in and resumed walking.
           My persona couldn’t be faulted, considering I was a soon-to-be felon—unless it was a misdemeanor to frequent speaks. I was dressed in a dark green silk suit that I’d made for Christmas. It had satin edging around the collar and a low waist with a satin belt that tied on the side at my hip. It complemented my dark red hair and was gorgeous, and I usually felt good when I had it on. I’d decided to wear it that evening, knowing I’d need all the help I could get in the feeling-good department. The dress wasn’t working.
           “Well,” Harold said, continuing our conversation as we walked through a sycamore grove (they were sycamores) in the dark, “at least you won’t have to do this more than once.”
           “Sez you,” I retorted crossly. Not only was I stumbling over roots and leaves and things, and probably snagging my best pair of black silk stockings—thanks to the rum-running gangsters’ need for privacy—but I had no faith whatever that Mrs. Kincaid would let me off the hook after only one séance. I did, however, have infinite faith in her daughter’s ability to thwart anyone who attempted to help her. Therefore, I feared Mrs. Kincaid’s entreaties that I appear at the speakeasy were destined to continue. The notion filled me with a sensation I still find difficult to describe. Dread and terror come close, with a liberal dose of resentment thrown in. “Where the heck is this place, anyhow?”
           “It’s in this grove. An old ranch house, I understand.”
           “I don’t like breaking the law, Harold.”
           He laughed. Big help. Suddenly I saw, tucked away among some trees, a faint light shining from a lamp mounted on the pillar of a porch attached to what looked like a barricaded building.
           It turned out to be an old ranch house, just as Harold had predicted. Its windows had been boarded up, and the porch looked rickety. I’d have been willing to turn tail and run away and tell Mrs. Kincaid that Jinx and his cronies must have moved quarters, but Harold remained undeterred. Retreat probably wouldn’t have worked anyhow since Stacy would have pointed out my mistake. I supposed it was as well to get it over with tonight; surely I’d be able to think of an excuse to get out of coming here again.
           As if he’d done this before, Harold led me along a path through a jungle of weeds and to a back porch that looked to be in an even sorrier state of disrepair than the front one. He tripped agilely up the scarred wooden stairs and rapped on the door as if he belonged there. I followed in his wake, looking over my shoulder, expecting to see uniformed coppers following us with their guns drawn.
           No such luck. I heard something that sounded like a bolt being lifted, and a gimlet eye appeared at a small hole in the door. A gruff voice said, “Yeah?”
           Harold whispered, “Oh, you kid.”
           The eye disappeared, and the door opened. My heart was heavy when I trailed after Harold into the house.
           Golly, what a difference between the outside and the inside! I’m not sure what I expected, maybe a continuation of the