Part 25 (1/2)
”Oh!” I said, feeling the tension leave my shoulders. ”Sorry, honey! I was really thinking you'd found Gopher and were torturing us.”
”Even I'm not that mean,” he told me.
”I know, I know. Again, I'm sorry.” And then I wanted to know more. ”So where is this mysterious Alex?”
”Belize.”
”I thought she was Russian?” Heath said.
”Oh, she is,” Gilley a.s.sured him. ”And sooooo much more.”
”I feel a long-winded story coming,” I muttered.
Gilley narrowed his eyes at me, but didn't let that stop him from telling us what he knew. ”Alexandra Neverov was born in Novgorod thirty-two years ago. Her father was an archaeologist at the Novgorod Inst.i.tute of Technology until he and his family defected to the United States in nineteen eighty-five, where he then took up a post at New York University. Alex also went to NYU, graduating with top honors in the same field as her father-archaeology.”
I put up my hand. ”Hold on, Gil,” I said. ”How do you know all this stuff about her?” do you know all this stuff about her?”
”From her Web page,” Gilley said with a smartypants smile.
”Ah. Okay, please continue.”
”Oh, I'm just getting to the best part! See, according to Alex's Web page, it was about the time that she graduated from NYU that her intuitive abilities began to surface in earnest.”
”Her intuitive intuitive abilities?” Heath repeated. abilities?” Heath repeated.
Gilley nodded his head vigorously. ”Yep.”
”She's psychic psychic?” I clarified.
”Yep.”
”Is she also a medium?”
”No,” Gilley told me. ”Not per se. Her talent is much cooler than that.”
I frowned. ”Gee, thanks.”
Gilley ignored the fact that he'd just insulted both Heath and me and rushed on. ”She's a dowser,” he said. ”And apparently, she's a really good one.”
”A dowser,” I repeated flatly. ”How exactly is walking around with a rod in the desert looking for water cooler than talking to dead people?”
”Oh, she doesn't hunt for water, M. J. She hunts for gold gold.”
My eyebrows shot up and Heath looked equally surprised. ”She's a psychic treasure hunter?” he asked. ”For real?”
”Yep.”
I sat back in my chair and laughed. ”Well, now we know how she fits into this puzzle. If she's able to dowse for gold, then that's why Kincaid would have wanted her along to find Dunnyvale's treasure. She probably would have found it too if Kincaid hadn't died. And if they were as close a couple as Mary suggested, I can see why Alex would have left and never come back. Too many bad memories.”
Gilley pointed his finger at me. ”Bingo. The other point of interest on Alex's Web site is that she claims to have had a good deal of success finding treasure protected by curses, poltergeists, and various angry spooks.”
”So she's also a ghostbuster,” I said. Gilley nodded and I added, ”That explains the backpack filled with spikes that she wore to get past the phantom.”
Heath squirmed in his chair trying to find a more comfortable position again. ”But how does she figure into this whole mystery with our missing producer?” he asked. ”I mean, Dunnyvale keeps telling you we need to find her to bring Gopher back-so what's her connection?”
My good humor faded quickly. ”I have no idea.”
”And you guys didn't find a single trace of him at the castle?”
I shook my head. ”Nope. Heath and I are convinced he made it off the rock, either by way of the causeway or the tunnel that runs underneath it.”
”So where where is he?” Gil pressed. ”I mean, if he made it off the rock, why hasn't he tried to contact us?” is he?” Gil pressed. ”I mean, if he made it off the rock, why hasn't he tried to contact us?”
With a jolt I remembered the letter taped to the door that I'd shoved into my back pocket earlier. Pulling it out quickly, I told the boys where I'd found it, and tore it open to read it, but the moment my eyes rested on the top line, I sucked in a horrified breath. ”Oh, no!” I whispered.
”What?” Gil asked.
I turned the paper around so that he and Heath could see it. ”It's Gopher's handwriting.”
Gilley s.n.a.t.c.hed the letter out of my hand and held it close to read it.
”Dear Ghoul Getters, I'm being held against my will. I am being ordered to write this letter to beg you to secure my safe return. To achieve this, my captor is insisting that you rid Castle Dunlow of its phantom. You have until Sunday to accomplish this task; otherwise, terrible things will happen to me. And I must warn you that if you go to the police again, I will be killed, and you will never find me. Please, guys, don't let me down. Please, help me.”
We fell into a stunned silence and stared at one another with wide eyes. Finally, I broke the silence. ”Sunday is in four days,” I said, before turning to Gilley. ”Honey, find me a phone number for Alex.”
”She's in Belize,” Gilley reminded me. ”In the middle of the jungle. How am I supposed to find you a working phone number for her?”
”I don't know and I don't care, Gil!” I snapped, as the stress over Gopher's confirmed kidnapping got to me. I knew it would be a difficult task for Gil, but he had to try and I didn't want to hear his excuses.
”Why do you need to call her?” Heath asked me, his voice soft and soothing.
I sighed tiredly and folded Gopher's letter, working to rein in my horns. ”Because I've got to convince her to come back to Dunlow and help me deal with this phantom. p.r.o.nto.”
”Help you you?” Heath pressed. ”Don't you mean us us?”
”No,” I said, my hand moving to rest gently right above his wound. ”I don't. You're going to sit the rest of this bust out, sweetheart. It's time for the girls' team to go in and kick some phantom a.s.s.”
Chapter 12.
Gilley found a contact number for Alex, who was actually vacationing at a resort and not in the middle of the jungle excavating some old tomb. I had the much more difficult task of convincing her to come to Ireland.
”We desperately need your help,” I explained, after introducing myself and telling her the basic reason for my call. ”The person or persons who've taken our friend will not free him until we've gotten rid of the phantom at Castle Dunlow.”
The other end of the line was silent for a bit, and I would have thought that we'd been disconnected if I hadn't heard music and lively chatter in the background. ”M. J.,” she said at last, ”you have no idea how abhorrent the idea of returning to Dunlow is to me. I vowed four years ago that I would never return. I meant it then and I mean it now. I'm very sorry, but I cannot help you.”