Chapter VI
"The nerve of those fleshies," snarled Stretch. He was flying so furiously that the other two had to strain to keep up with him. "What right do they even have, conductin' their worthless lives on our property?"
"But Stretch," piped up Stinkie, "You said they were stayin' there 'cause we let 'em."
Fatso was confused. "Er...don't we?"
"No." Stretch angled his descent towards the widow Laslowe's mansion. "We just never bothered kickin' them out. There's a difference."
Stinkie and Fatso glanced at eachother wordlessly and followed their self-appointed leader.
Stretch ignored the passers-by who noticed the three ghosts and ran bellowing down the street. He eyed the doorbell buzzer for a moment, then decided to forget it and let himself in by floating right through the heavy door.
"Quiet," Stretch hissed, holding Stinkie and Fatso, who had followed him in, back in the hallway. "Listen."
They listened. They were sure they heard, muffled by the walls, the sound of a crowd cheering. It didn't sound like a television set.
"Maybe they do hold monster truck rallies on Saturdays," marvelled Fatso.
"Come on." Stretch led the others through first one wall, then another, then finally through the ceiling in pursuit of the source of the sound. Finally they found it: a sizable gathering of ghosts in the mansion's library.
"Wouldja lookit that," whispered Stinkie.
"What are they all doin' here?" demanded Fatso.
Stretch frowned. "There's the monster truck now." He directed the other two's attention from the crowd to the woman standing behind the podium at the front of the library.
"Hey, it's Viola!" Stinkie exclaimed in surprise. "What's she think she's doin'?"
"Shh!" warned Fatso.
"Quiet! Quiet, please!" Viola raised both arms and lowered them, palms downward, like a kindergarten teacher. Surprisingly enough, it worked, and her ghostly audience fell silent.
"Last night went very well," the widow began, stepping over Pavlov and its puddle of drool to stand to the side of the podium. "Your...uh - " here she glanced hastily at the notes she had ready on the podium, " - Your feelings of anxiety have been sucessfully vented towards those - uh - those who have caused you pain: the living!"
"End Your Strife - Down With Life!" chanted the collection of ghosts enthusiastically.
"This is nuts," mumbled Stretch.
"The living hate you!" went on Viola vehemently. "They hire exorcists to destroy that which they do not understand! All ghosts want is peace!"
The ghosts cheered again.
"Didn't the doc say that?" said Stinkie with a frown. "That ghosts want peace?"
"He also said we have a lot of anxiety," Fatso pointed out.
Stretch was catching on. "I'll bet that's why she wanted to see the doc's journal!"
"So she could twist his words?" gasped Stinkie.
"She can't do that to the doc!" cried Fatso.
Viola glanced at her notes, then stood in front of the podium. "The living must be taught a lesson!" she announced. "They must be driven out of Friendship!"
"What's Friendship gotta do with it?" said Fatso loudly, flying out inot the middle of the room.
"Yeah," agreed a short ghost from the back. "Who cares about one town?"
"Wait - " said Viola, but was drowned out by Stinkie, who popped up right in front of her.
"Why are you guys listening to her, anyways?" he demanded of the crowd.
"Yeah, she's just a mummified old fleshie," agreed Stretch from the ceiling. Viola gasped in horror.
"He's right," said a female ghost dressed like a flapper. "Let's get out of this big mothball!"
"Wait, stop!" Viola cried too late as her audience flew off through the walls, ceiling, and floor. "I'm not done brainwashing - I mean...Come back!"
The Trio regrouped and glared at Viola angrily. "So - it was all your fault," snapped Stretch at the widow, who looked back at him uneasily. "You know - we got blamed for all that stuff you pulled with your flunkies last night."
"Oh...Really?" Viola backed into her podium and scrambled around it, nearly stumbling over Pavlov, who only twitched.
"So why do you want alla fleshies run outta town, anyways?" Stinkie wanted to know.
"Don't you get it?" responded Fatso. "Viola here is an evil depotic dictator who wants to take over not just Friendship, but all of Maine!"
Stretch hit the big ghost over the head with a book. "All right, all right, listen here." He leaned over Viola threateningly. "Because of you, Doc Harvey has been thrown in the big house. So what are you gonna do about it?"
Viola gaped back at him. Dr. Harvey was in jail? So he wouldn't be able to talk her 'patients' out of complying with her plans (that is, if she could get them back)? Marvellous! It couldn't be more perfect. She beamed at Stretch, then quickly whipped up a guilty expression.
"Oh, I feel so awful!" she crooned. "This is all my fault!"
"This is all - er." Stretch frowned. "Uh, yeah."
"You twisted the doc's words!" argued Fatso.
Viola walked past the ghosts to head for the stairs. "You are so right," she answered, the Trio following her to the first floor. "What was I thinking?" She opened the secret passageway.
"Uh huh." Stretch glanced in confusion at his two companions, who just shrugged back. Why was Viola agreeing with them like that? It was almost as if she was using some of Dr. Harvey's 'reverse psychology' or whatever he called it.
"I simply must make it up to you fellows," Viola went on, leading the Trio through the secret door and to her workroom. "Name anything - go on."
The Ghostly Trio allowed themselves to be herded inside the incomplete chalk circle drawn on the cement floor. "Well, I dunno," said Stretch skeptically. "It's gonna have to be a pretty big favor."
"Oh, of course," enthused Viola, getting on her hands and knees. She pulled a piece of chalk from the sash tied around her waist and used it to draw in the missing part of the circle. "...But then again, why should I do a favor for a bunch of deadbeats like you?"
The Trio were startled by Viola's sudden nasty tone of voice. "Look, you - " snarled Stretch, flying forward and smacking into an invisible wall that rose out of the chalk line in a cylinder and surrounded the ghosts. "Hey!" he yelled, as all three of them began trying to feel for an opening out of their prison.
"You dared to interrupt my session," Viola growled, standing up and tossing the piece of chalk away. "I had those ghosts eating out of the palm of my hand!"
"Using the doc's notes!" Fatso reminded her angrily.
"What's goin' on? Let us outta here!" wailed Stinkie.
"Forget it, Bucky!" Viola crowed, walking over to her mirror. She lifted the amulet off of its corner and held it reverently "They said I couldn't be a witch," she rambled to herself, putting the amulet on. "They said I didn't have enough Astral power, well - " here she paused and turned to look at the three confused ghosts haughtily " - Now I will!"
Stretch eyed the widow suspiciously. "What...What does that do?" he said, pointing to the amulet, which had begun to glow faintly.
"You're about to find out," snarled Viola.
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
"It's about time," James mumbled under his breath as Officer Stevenson unlocked and removed his handcuffs. James and Kat sat at the private office's table as indicated by Chief Wainwright, who also took a seat. When Officer Stevenson had closed the door behind him, Kat ventured to speak:
"So now what's going to happen to us?"
Chief Wainwright took a deep breath and folded her hands in front of her. "Your father is going to have to remain here, in my office, but, as for you..." the Chief glanced at the door expectantly, "...your temporary guardian should be here any moment." She glared at the door. As if prompted, it flew open.
Dibs stumbled in, strewing papers everywhere. "Terribly sorry," he said. "Am I late?"
Kat was infuriated. "Him?" she demanded, jumping up and jabbing a finger at Wendy's uncle.
"It's only a formality," Chief Wainwright assured her.
"Look," muttered Dibs to Kat, crawling around to gather his papers, "you can say whatever you want about me, but it isn't going to change anything now, is it?"
Kat had to shake her head.
Chief Wainwright got up. "We thought it would be easier on you if you could stay at our house, with Wendy to keep you company."
Kat sighed. "...Okay."
The Chief motioned to Kat, and the girl walked over to her. "Come on," she said, "let's get this all worked out." She and Kat left the room.
Dibs stacked his papers on the table and sat down across from James. "My sister-in-law thinks it is a possibility that you may be sued by the City," the lawyer began.
James wasn't surprised. "Swell," he mumbled.
"So in advance, I'm offering to defend you."
Now James was surprised. "I couldn't pay you - "
Dibs held up a hand. "We'll just call it a favor."
"Well, I didn't have anything to do with it - "
"I know that," Dibs interrupted the therapist again.
"How?"
"I'll tell you how." Dibs glanced around, then leaned forward. "My wife is a witch," he whispered.
James arced an eyebrow. "Does your wife know you talk about her like that behind her back?"
"No, no." Dibs shook his head. "My wife really is a witch. You know: Hocus Pocus, I'll get you my pretty, all that."
"You're joking."
"No. They're all witches, the lot of them. Even the kid. I'm the only one in the house who doesn't know how many eyes of newt go into a basic love potion."
"...Witches."
"Yes."
James rubbed his eyes. "Well, that's it for me," he muttered, pulling the coffeepot towards him. "How I've lasted this long already without caffeine is beyond me. Do you want something? There's tea here."
"Tea?" Dibs made a face. "I abhor tea. Why do you think I left England? The whole place is full of the stuff. Disgusting. Pass the coffee."
The door opened and Chief Wainwright entered, followed by Miss Wainwright from the bank, and another woman James recognized as Dr. Wainwright of Friendship General.
"Well." Dibs put down the coffeepot, which he hadn't yet gotten to use. "I'll be going." He paused by James' chair on the way out. "If they tell you you're under some sort of terrible curse or something, don't believe them. They think they're funny." Upon dispensing that sage advice, he left.
The Wainwright sisters sat at the table, but only after the Chief of Police had locked and secured the door.
Bank President Wainwright began. "Dr. Harvey, we know who is responsible for the hauntings last night."
"Miss Wainwright, I never - "
James trailed off, and President Wainwright began again. "Call me Wysteria," she told the therapist, "and we know it wasn't you."
"Because you're witches?"
The sisters stole an amused glance at oneanother.
"What has Peter been telling you about us?" asked Dr. Wainwright smoothy.
James leaned back. "Don't tell me you're not witches, Dr. Wainwright," he warned her.
Dr. Wainwright laughed. "It's Wilhelmina - Mina...Goodness, you won't be able to keep us straight with that Wainwright stuff. And this is Wynona," she introduced the Chief of Police. "And yes - we're witches. I was just afraid he'd told you something embarassing."
Wynona leaned forward. "Dr. Harvey, are you familiar with Viola Laslowe?"
James nodded. "Yes, she was a patient of mine until very recently...Why?"
The therapist concluded from the grave look he received from the three sisters that the explaination he was about to get was going to be a long one indeed.