His ghostly sigh was unsettlingly like his brother’s. “I’m not just checking houses, lady. Did you not see me inside a cave?”
“Those are walls, too, even if they’re not made of wood. What if whatever you’re looking for isn’t aboveground at all? What if someone put it in a box and buried it?”
Dead Mr. Bothwick appeared unimpressed with her reasoning. “Itisa box.”
“Well, there you go,” she babbled anyway. “Anyone worth their salt knows you hide boxes by burying them, not by sticking them in some locked room where anybody could walk through the wall and find it.”
She bit back a startled gasp when he turned around—without turning around. One minute she’d been following his ghostly shoulders and the next minute he’d rematerialized facing in her direction, with an expression that indicated she was treading on very thin ice.
She had learned to stay clear of thin ice.
“If you don’t fancy my help, that’s fine,” she assured him hurriedly. “I was just thinking that two heads might be better than one, that’s all. Especially if one of the heads were attached to a corporeal body capable of wielding a shovel and things of that nature.”
He turned-without-turning again and continued toward town once more. But she heard him.
“You have a point.”
She had a point! Ha! She’d help solve his mystery, which was a plus for both of them, and he’d go away forever, which was also a plus for both of them. Now she just needed to know what she was looking for.
“What kind of box is it?” She jogged to catch up. “Pine? Fir?”
“Jewelry.”
Jewelry?Another fragment of memory replayed in her head, and she couldn’t stop herself from murmuring, “I wonder if it’s the same thing.”
Dead Mr. Bothwick stopped cold.
Susan jerked to the side at the last minute, barely avoiding dissipating the new ghost right when the substance of his mission was starting to take form.
“You wonder if what’s the same thing?” His voice was chilly, his tone suspicious.
“I can’t help but notice that we’re not the only ones digging for missing items,” she explained hesitantly. “Valuable, missing, important... things. It’s probably just coincidence.”
“I don’t believe in coincidence.” Dead Mr. Bothwick’s ghostly arms crossed. “Tell me about this other missing item. Is it a box? What does it look like?”
“I’m not certain. I haven’t seen it,” she pointed out, “because it’smissing.All the giant said was—”
“The who?”
“That is to say...” What was his real name? The girls had told her yesterday. “Mr. Oliver Hamilton.”
The ghost came unhinged.
“What? Ollie knows about the box? Od’s blood and damn it. For Christ’s—why didn’t you say so to start with?” His ghostly form seemed to double in size.
“I didn’t know it was the same box,” she stammered, suddenly nervous despite the knowledge he couldn’t touch her without disappearing himself. “We still don’t know for sure. Besides, you didn’t want my help with your precious mission!”
“Oh, it’s the same box, all right.” Dead Mr. Bothwick zoomed forward far too fast for her to keep up safely. “It’s definitely the same box. Damn and triple damn. How did he know? Who could’ve told him? And—” He stopped again and re-misted toward her. “How doyouknow?”
“He... happened to mention it one day?”
“He happened tomentionit? You’re in such confidence with him that Ollie just up and said, ‘You know, I’m going to bury this priceless antique jewelry box,’ and you said, ‘Yes, do, capital idea.’” The ghost’s short laugh was chilling. “No, Miss Stanton. You can’t help. Go away.” He shot forward again.
“No,” she called after him. “You’ve got it wrong. Assuming it’s the same box, they’ve been trying to find it, too. It must be lost.”
Dead Mr. Bothwick stopped without turning. “What do you mean?”
“He and the scare—and the butler. They’ve been searching. I saw the manservant digging in town.”
