Page 89 of Crazy Spooky Love
Donovan Scarborough makes a sudden lunge for me and I instinctively swing my arm back and bring it down with a satisfying crack over his head.
He goes down onto his knees like a comedy cartoon character, clutching his skull in shock. The vase was pretty dainty really, nowhere near heavy enough to kill him but enough to give him a banging headache and me and Marina time to escape toward the staircase. Even as we’re doing it I’m thinking how only too-stupid-to-live heroines in bad B movies make for the stairs instead of heading for the front door, but it was the nearest option at short notice and Scarborough was between us and the exit.
Besides, we need to get up there to execute the second prong of my hastily cobbled-together plan.
“Come on,” I say, half-dragging Marina by the hand. “We’ve got a teddy bear to find.”
We make it to the top of the staircase in five seconds flat, running and scrabbling, and when we see Scarborough start crawling up behind us Marina takes one of her shoes off and flings it at him.
“Just so you know, I’m putting new shoes on expenses,” she says as she takes aim. I don’t argue. So far today she’s used her skyscraper heels to kick Fletch’s hand when he grabbed me under the bed, knock the key from the cellar door, and now hamper Donovan Scarborough’s progress. The way she’s going she’ll deserve Jimmy Choo’s.
Lloyd must have heard what I said about the teddy bear, because he’s waiting at the top of the stairs and is no longer the sneering, supercilious ghost of a few minutes previously. He reminds me of his great-grandson more than ever: filled with rabid, ugly fury.
If he could push me down the stairs and be done with me, I have no doubt whatsoever that he would.
Isaac and Douglas are here too now, and Donovan is almost at the top of the stairs. His head is a bleeding mess of little cuts and scrapes from the vase and Marina’s heel, he looks like a boxer at the end of a very long fight. An onlooker would be forgiven for thinking that he’d been brawling with Leo, given that he’s in a similar state on the floor in the hallway.
“I know you killed Douglas,” I say, staring defiantly at Lloyd. “You killed him, and then you stitched the knife inside your favorite teddy bear.”
Douglas is standing completely still, staring at his brother. “It’s true, isn’t it? I’ve always known it had to be you.”
“You can’t prove a thing,” Lloyd snarls, curling his lips back like a rabid beast.
“Get out of my house!” Donovan Scarborough shouts, belligerent and overwrought. He’s lying face down on the stairs now, clearly exhausted. He looks like a man who has spent too much of his time enjoying the high life and not enough time at the gym. He’s exhausted and bleeding, and I’m not sure if he’s shouting at me or the whole lot of us, ghosts included.
“Oh, I’m going to prove it,” I counter, jabbing my chin out in defiance at Lloyd. “You just watch me.”
I turn to dash down the corridor toward the master bedroom, but I’m stopped in my tracks by the sight of Fletch walking out of that same room.
He’s covered in dust, dirt, and disintegrated rubber carpet underlay, and he’s carrying a saggy, dusty teddy bear.
“Thought I may as well save you a job, Bittersweet,” he says, casually handing me the bear. I hold it in my hands and, when I press its abdomen, I can feel something sickeningly solid insideit.
“Thank you,” I say. “Thank you.” I’m thanking Fletch, but I’m also thanking Agnes Scarborough for leading me here. “How did you find it so quickly?”
He shrugs. “Studied the floorboards. One of them looked a bit off, as if a woman had nailed it down.”
Oh, he’ll suffer for that comment. Not right now, but later at some point. We head back to the top landing, back to the Scarborough brothers.
“Fletch, do you think you could take Donovan Scarborough downstairs? There’s one last thing I need to do.”
“It’s that gobbledygook bullshit again, isn’t it?” he asks, and when I don’t answer, he goes halfway down the stairs and stands beside Scarborough.
“You can get up and walk or I can drag you. I don’t care which.”
When Scarborough ignores him, he sighs. “Have it your own way then, fella,” he says, then drags Donovan down the rest of the staircase by one foot. It’s super satisfying to watch him bump on each step, and I daren’t look directly at Fletch in case I forget what I’m supposed to be doing and run down there and rip his shirt off.
“I think you might owe Fletcher Gunn several favors now too,” Marina says, as we stand on the wide landing and watch him drag a still-protesting Scarborough across the tiles and park him against the wall by the front door.
“Go and find Artie and the others?” I squeeze her hand. “I’ll be out soon.”
She knows what this means, and she casts an uncertain glance in the direction of the Scarborough brothers and raises her hands in a forlorn goodbye heart symbol. She looks to me, nods just once, then heads off down the stairs.
As I turn to face the three brothers, I hear sirens in the distance.
“Oh-oh.” Douglas rolls his eyes. “Someone called the po-po.” Lloyd and Isaac look confused.
“Brooklyn Nine-Nine?” I ask, wondering if Marina recommended it, and Douglas laughs sadly.
