“You’re Mr. Bothwick’s brother,” she breathed. “The misplaced one.”
“Timothy,” he confirmed, then frowned. “Who, exactly, misplaced me?”
“Mr. Bothwick did,” she answered promptly, then faltered when the Dead Mr. Bothwick’s frown grew deeper. “Er, that is to say... I think he may have done.”
What on earth had happened to the razor-sharp conversational skills she’d once been so proud of possessing? She’d sounded like a halfwit all day today. Exceptional circumstances notwithstanding.
“Might he now? Well, that changes things.” Dead Mr. Bothwick’s face cleared and he gave a short, wry laugh. “Or does it?”
She wasn’t quite sure how to answer that question, so she said nothing at all.
“May I give you a hand up?” the ghost asked politely.
“Oh! No, it’s all right.” Susan scrambled to her feet. She dusted the sand from her skirts as best as she could. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way. I can only see you.”
“And hear me,” he pointed out.
“Er, right. I can only see you and hear you.” There she went, sounding like a ninnyhammer again. When it seemed he might press the issue, she rushed to add, “What were you doing in that cave? Wouldn’t it make more sense to haunt... people?”
The look he tossed her was irritatingly amused. “Is that why I’m still here? To haunt people?”
“Well, how would I know?” she snapped defensively. “Maybe you have a mission.”
“A mission,” he repeated, his expression thoughtful. “That I do.”
In a burst of sudden lucidity, the morning’s events clicked into place. Red had had a mission. He’d promised to disappear the moment she’d helped him break the news to his sister. She’d done so—however reluctantly and inelegantly—and now he was missing. But what if he wasn’t missing? What if he was simplydone?
“I’ll help,” she announced, willing to do almost anything for this new ghost to be gone from her increasingly complicated life. She gave him a sharp nod and tried not to be discomfited by his similarity in appearance to the (still living, she hoped) Other Mr. Bothwick. She’d quickly fulfill the Dead Mr. Bothwick’s mission. Then he’d disappear forever.
He disagreed. “You can’t help.”
“How do you know I can’t help? You haven’t told me what the problem is.”
A self-deprecating smile quirked his lips. “I have many.”
Susan sighed. “Let’s start with the first.”
After a long pause, he admitted, “I’m looking for something.”
“There you go! I’ll help you find it.” She beamed at him. “Er... what is it?”
“Look,” he said, “I appreciate the offer. I do. But you can’t help. I’minvisible.You’re not. So don’t worry. I’ll take care of this. In fact...” He cast a startled look behind him as if half-expecting a herd of stampeding cattle to burst forth from the cavern. Susan shot a glance into the crevice herself, just to make sure. “In fact,” he repeated, “this is not the best location for an unchaperoned young lady. What are you doing here all alone, might I ask? Don’tyouknow caves are dangerous?”
Conceding the point, Susan followed his iridescent form away from the cavern, back toward Bournemouth.
“Caves don’t frighten me,” she said aloud with far more bravado than she felt. No way would she have trespassed within its walls.
“That one should.” Dead Mr. Bothwick’s voice floated back, casting a chill deep into her bones. “Promise me you won’t come here again.”
“Er, all right.” Easy peasy. There wasn’t enough gold to tempt her. “But don’t try to change the subject. I am determined to help you.”
“Look, Miss...”
“Stanton.”
“Right.” He rubbed at his semitransparent face. “Look, Miss Stanton. You can’t help. I can walk through walls andIhaven’t seen hide nor hair of it.”
“Well, what if it’s not within walls?”
