~ Bubba's Ghost ~

by

Marja McGraw

Thump!

Don’t they say that ghosties go thump in the night? No, that’s bump in the night. So, okay, I was safe. It had been a long day; I was tired and probably not thinking clearly.

I was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of hot tea and reading a report when I heard the noise, and it was late. Much too late for company to appear unannounced. Why would someone be thumping at my back door anyway? Why not knock? And at the front door?

Thump! Pause. Thump!

“Give me a minute.” Pushing my long, brown hair out of my face, I shoved the chair away from the table and stood up, spilling papers all over the floor. “Oh, for crying out loud,” I mumbled irritably.

Thump! Pause. Thump!

“Okay. I’ll be there in a second. Hold your horses.”

I opened the door and, glancing at my visitor, promptly slammed it shut.

Thump!

Was it my imagination or did that noise sound more insistent? Maybe even threatening. I peeked out the window, but he was still there.

“You go home. Right now.”

He glanced up at me, but didn’t budge.

“Doggie, I said go home. Now!”

No movement, except for the tail. It was furiously waving back and forth. The teeth came next. He was baring his teeth at me. Was he going to lunge for the window?

Thump!

Two things dawned on me at the same time. The first was, he was thumping on the door with his paw. His very, very huge paw. The second, and most surprising, was that he wasn’t baring his teeth at me. He was actually smiling. I didn’t know that dogs could smile, but this was definitely a big, toothy grin--on the face of one of the most gargantuan dogs I’d ever seen. I was assuming the dog was a he solely due to his size and the dopey grin on his face.

I wasn’t sure what to do, but his expression made him appear friendly. Deciding to take a chance, I opened the door a crack.

“Good doggie.” Best to make friends with him right off. His tail wagged faster, and his smile remained in place.

What to do, what to do? I’ve dealt with men and guns, men and speeding cars, even men and fists. I’m Sandi Webster, a private investigator in Los Angeles. I’ve faced danger before, but never in the form of a bear-sized dog. His teeth looked so big. I’ve never spent any quality time with dogs, and I didn’t know what to expect from him. Should I take another chance?

“Wait a second and I’ll get you some water.” Could I be taking my life in my hands? I closed the door and found a large bowl under the sink. I ran water into the container and was turning toward the back door when the front doorbell rang.

“Now what?”

Setting the bowl down, I headed for the living room.

“Who’s there?”

“It’s Pete.” It was pretty late for Pete to be coming by. He’s my partner in the private investigating firm, and my current love interest. Current? I hadn’t been dating anyone until Pete came along, and since meeting him, well, he was all I wanted or needed. Turning the knob on the deadbolt, I briefly wondered what he was doing standing on my porch.

“What?” I asked. Not a romantic greeting, but I was tired.

“What’s that?” Pete was looking over my shoulder and had an odd expression on his face.

I hadn’t latched the back door, and the dog had apparently invited himself in. He insinuated himself between Pete and me, giving Pete the ol’ evil eye, and plunked down on his hindquarters. I’m five foot three, and the dog was more than half my height while sitting.

“I’m not sure, but I think he’s protecting you, Sandi.” Pete appeared to be a little nervous. He slowly moved his hand inside his jacket, where I knew he’d find his gun resting in its shoulder holster.

“Don’t. I’ll get rid of him.” I glanced at the dog.

“Are you sure?”

“Doggie?” He slowly turned his huge head and looked at me. “You go away now.” The dog stood up and headed for the kitchen while I waved my hands in that general direction.

“I’ll be a son-of-a-gun.” Pete pulled his hand out of his jacket.

“Yeah. Me, too.” I wasn’t as calm about a strange dog being in my house as I probably appeared.

“I was on my way home from the surveillance and decided to drop off your camera.” After taking another glance toward the kitchen, Pete handed it to me.

“Well? What happened?” I asked. “Did you get the goods on Shields?”

“No, I think this guy has a legitimate case. I’ve watched him for a week now, and I haven’t seen or heard anything to indicate he’s faking his back injuries. I think he’s in a lot of pain and the insurance company is going to have to bite the bullet on this one.”

“Okay, we earn our fee either way, faking or not.”

“I’ll write up my report in the morning.” Pete has a habit of running his hands through his hair when he’s agitated or tired. He was now running those hands through his dark brown, almost black hair, and I noticed his dark eyes were bloodshot.

“You look tired.”

“I am.”

He turned around and glanced out the door, squinting.

“What?” I asked.

“Someone’s coming up the walk.”

“Can you see who it is? It’s too late for visitors.” It was turning into a busy evening.

“It’s Dolly.”

“Wonder what she wants at this time of night.”

Dolly Temple, my aging neighbor, climbed up the front steps and arrived at the door with a worried expression on her face.

I reached toward her. “Dolly? What’s wrong?”

“You two can talk,” Pete said. “I’m going home to get some sleep.”

“No, please wait,” Dolly implored in her high, squeaky voice. “I want to talk to both of you. I need your help, and I want to hire you. That is, my granddaughter needs your help.”

“Come on in.” I pulled the door open wide. “Pete can stay for a few more minutes.” Pete was one of the good guys; plus he liked the old woman.

Dolly had been my neighbor when I lived in my old apartment. She was at least eighty, and if she stood ramrod straight, she might reach four feet, ten inches tall. She had snow white, permed hair and glasses that rested on the end of her nose. She was just about the cutest little old lady I’d ever seen.

“Oh, and here’s your rent check.” She handed me the check.

“Thanks.”

I’d come into a large sum of money and bought my great-great-great-grandmother Merced’s old house from my mother, who’d bought it to keep it in the family. Buying the house centered around a case I’d handled involving a hundred-year-old family-related murder.

I’d had money left over to use as a substantial down payment on the house next door, to use as a rental, and enough to keep my business going for a while. I offered Dolly the place for the same amount she was paying for her apartment, and she jumped at the chance to move into a house.

The best part is that she’s a good neighbor and keeps an eye on my place when I’m gone. Dolly can spot an intruder coming before he knows he’s coming.

“I have a problem, and I thought about it a lot before deciding to come talk to you. I’m sorry it’s so late, but I just can’t wait any longer.” Dolly settled herself on the couch. “My granddaughter, Chrissy, needs your help. Some strange things have been happening at her house and she’s frightened. And I’m scared, too.”