Are You Haunted (part forty-two)

Are You Haunted

(part forty-two)

He knew this look on the face of Mrs. Lessing’s sister…brows cinched, smiling with the corners of her mouth resisting. He thought he might as well not offer to shake the Keegans’ hands. Keegan stood behind his wife, his in his trouser pockets. Mrs. Keegan held a basket over one arm, and flicked her free hand uncertainly, finally landing it on the basket’s handle. Powell’s hands were muddy.

“Well, folks, this here’s what you get. Scuse us.” Guy palm-bumped Powell’s shoulder, encouraging him into the parlor for a private talk. “Mr. and Mrs. Keegan’re here to keep the place lookin decent. Now I got you back in the house…”

“About Dennis Tovey, sir…”

“Mr. Connolly read you through all them paragraphs that are legally bindin on you, now you signed the contract?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You understand you got a job now. Mrs. Drybrook wasn’t handin you over charity. You gotta make yourself presentable. That’s every day.”

“Yes, sir.”

Pockets searched, a paper found and unrolled. “Jesus Lord, don’t take nothin to run you around. I won’t say for you to lock the door on Toveys, cause I know that much, you won’t. But I want you to be lookin at em, how they do, start payin some attention.”

Guy ran a finger to this spot and that. Powell had let them take money—not his, but given on condition it be used to cover appropriate expenses. He had let them bring strangers to, and serve alcohol inside of, Mrs. Drybrook’s house, an entertainment forbidden by a clause (“this here”) of which he had just admitted knowing; he had therefore taken part in a conspiracy against his employer.

And did he stand there thinkin he’d be gettin more money for gas and groceries, any time before the month’s end? No, sir.

“No sir, not no matter what. You know where Toveys live? No, son, you don’t. You gonna get em to loan you a buck when you’re starvin? No, son, you ain’t.”

And here he was still at it, keeping his appointment with Dennis.

When, bathed and dressed, Powell had come downstairs tightening Drybrook’s belt at the waist of Drybrook’s trousers, the Keegans were gone, the lawn appeared trim, the dishes were soaking in the sink, and the smell was of soap.

Dennis Tovey blocked the front door. Seated on a chair unfolded from the stack, his hat at his feet, his jacket tossed on the remaining chairs.

Powell said, “I can’t let you mess stuff up down there.”

“Yeah, I saw. Guy came by to make sure his thumbprint sticks on you this time.”

41

Haunted
Are You Haunted (part one)

(2019, Stephanie Foster)