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  Dead Drunk

  The Soul Seekers: Book Four

  Alice J. Black

  Copyright © 2018 by Alice J. Black

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Edited by Maria Pease & Ashley Conner

  Designed by Shayne Leighton

  The Parliament House

  www.parliamenthousepress.com

  Contents

  1. Dead Drunk

  About the Author

  A Request from Peyton

  Also by Alice J. Black

  The Parliament House

  1

  Dead Drunk

  The phone rang into the silence. My feet slipped from the desk as my whole body twitched, and my coffee spilled over my crotch, soaking through to my legs within seconds.

  “Dammit,” I cursed as I set down the cup with the remaining three drops of liquid and stood up, reaching for a towel. Thank God the coffee wasn’t scalding.

  “Jeez, Peyton. It’s just the phone. Get a grip.” Olivia rolled her eyes.

  As she reached forward and grabbed the handset, I dabbed at the huge stain on my jeans that made it look like I’d wet myself.

  “Hello, Soul Seekers,” she offered the greeting in a warm and polite tone.

  My heart was in my mouth as I stared at Olivia. This was our first phone call. The first time somebody had actually called the company looking for help. The first official case for Soul Seekers. I was glad she was here when we got the first call. If the phone had rung only the day before, when she was at the solicitors, I’m not sure how I would’ve dealt with it.

  It was still so hard to believe how far I’d come. Only a short time ago, I was drinking myself into oblivion daily to avoid the very thing I was now in business to find—ghosts.

  Olivia’s voice brought me back to the room. “No. No. I’m sorry. Thanks. Bye.” Olivia put the phone down, and her eyes flicked to mine as if I hadn’t been staring at her the whole time.

  “Well?” My hands wrung together in front of my damp crotch.

  “Wrong number.”

  I sank back into the old office chair that creaked every time I dared move. The coffee had seeped into the fabric of the seat and begun to soak into my jeans.

  “Well, that sucks.”

  “Relax, Peyton. We’ve just opened up. It’s bound to take some time. Word of mouth and all that.”

  “Forgive me if I’m not as optimistic.” I crossed my arms.

  “Hey,” she held her hand up, “I’m the sarcastic one, so quit it.”

  “Sorry.” I sighed. “I’m just worried, that’s all. I’ve put everything into this. Every last penny I had going spare went into opening this place since the stupid bank manager wouldn’t give me a loan. You’ve risked everything for me.” I shook my head.

  Olivia had gone part-time at her job with the solicitors Stubbs and Oakley in order to help me set up and run the business. If I wasn’t sure about her being my best friend, that was a big enough statement to prove it.

  “I don’t want to let you down.”

  “Give it some time. And go change your pants. You can’t go catching ghosts when it looks like you can’t even control your bladder.”

  “Fine.” I stood up again. “Want anything while I’m out?”

  “Grab something for lunch. I’m famished.”

  “Maybe I’ll bring coffee cups with lids so I can’t spill.”

  Olivia grinned. “That might be wise.”

  I ran down the stairs and out onto the street where the breeze hit my wet jeans and sent shivers through me. I looked both ways down the pavement. There was nobody around to see my misfortune, which I was thankful for.

  I turned right and hurried along the pathway, going down the alley where I’d parked Thumper. I smiled as I opened her and climbed behind the wheel. It had taken some time, but I finally managed to get my beloved car back on the road. Not only was it practical for helping me get to and from cases—if we ever got any—but it made journeys like this swift.

  Thumper was a constant reminder of my parents, who bought the car for me. A reminder that was both sweet and painful. I patted the wheel tenderly. I would never forget my parents or what they’d done for me.

  I slotted the key into the ignition and started her up. The engine purred as smoothly as possible for a car that age. I clicked my belt into place and drove the short distance home. I parked, then hurried down the narrow walkway between the rows of terraced houses. It was a warm day, despite the breeze, and I let myself bask in the sun until I reached my house.

  The scent of vanilla filled my nose as I stepped over the threshold, and I breathed deep. It brought a sense of calm that instantly washed over me. Maybe that’s what I needed for the office, something that smelled nice and instilled serenity. I could only hope it might help with being so uptight.

  For once, Olivia was the laid-back one, and she had a lot more to lose. This business was on me, and if it went down the pan, at least I still had my house. Although she’d gone part-time to help me out, she still had a mortgage to pay. I had to make this work for her, if not me.

  I ran up the stairs and shed my clothing before rifling through the wardrobe and picking out an almost identical pair of jeans. I pulled them on and instantly felt better.

  I glanced in the dresser mirror and took a step forward. My cheeks were flushed, and my hair was full. It was like I was living a second life and loving every minute of it. A few months ago, I couldn’t have seen myself near the ledge of the rut I’d dug myself into, and now I was soaring. It was still hard to believe I’d come so far, and sometimes I had to do a reality check.

  My eyes flicked over the number written on a tattered piece of paper I’d stuffed into the side of my mirror at a time when chaos ruled my life. Most of the time, my eyes wandered over it without really seeing it, but lately, each time I saw the paper, I remembered exactly how I’d felt that night. It was a constant reminder of the night I spent in the fancy Manor House when Olivia’s brother got married. I was still drinking then and had carried along a hip flask to keep me topped up. I met the most amazing man. Jake. He listened to me. He was the first person I told about being able to hear spirits and that the drinking was to shield them from my mind. And he didn’t judge. He even gave me a glimpse of what a normal life would be like.

  I hadn’t seen Jake since then, but I thought about him. A lot. He’d given me his number and said that when things got better, to give him a call. I’d been so self-absorbed during the last few months, with quitting drinking, AA meetings, and hunting ghosts that I hadn’t even considered whether this was better. For me, yes. But for him? Would opening a ghost hunting company and chasing spirits be considered normal?

  I bit my lip and turned away. Maybe one day.

  I made my way back down the stairs and gave my house the once-over before leaving. Now it was time to figure out the next part—getting Olivia some food. After sinking most of my money into the business and keeping the house running to an acceptable standard without any huge alterations, I was lacking in free cash. So it would have to be something cheap and cheerful.

  Climbing back into Thumper, I drove down the high street and pulled onto the pavement just in front of a sandwich shop. This would have to do today. I hurried in and ordered two sandwiches, with full salad—I was being healthy—and hurried back to the office.

  Each second that passed, each red light that I had to wait at, made me wonder what I’d missed. It wasn’t like I’d been away long, but there might’ve been a call or two or three.

 
Who was I kidding? The likelihood was that the leaflets I’d paid to have printed had only made it to the nearest bin. I shook my head. Next time, I needed to seriously think about my marketing choices.

  I parked in the alley for the second time that day, jumped out of the car and grabbed the sandwiches. Paper bags in hand, I took the steps to the second-floor office two at a time and let myself in. The office was slowly becoming a home away from home.

  While I was dealing with the spirit at The Grand Hotel, I’d managed to secure the space and set up the lease. It had taken us a while to get it up to standard and get enough furniture to make it habitable enough to be there daily. We’d been open a week now. A week!

  It was furnished mostly by the nature of goodwill. The kitchen counter makeshift bench was already in place when I viewed the place and just needed a good scrub. The office chairs, Olivia managed to bag somehow. There was an old brown couch outside the office door. I originally thought it might’ve been a nice place for clients to sit, but so far, my backside was the only one that had been parked on it.

  The room next door would be our kit room once I got some shelves installed, which was something else on my to-do list. And the shower room was small but useful. Maybe I’d bring a change of clothes for the next time I decided to drop the contents of my cup into my lap. The only new thing I’d purchased was the computer that sat on the desktop, and even that was an old model.

  I strode into the office and set the bag directly in front of Olivia, on the keyboard. She eyed it and then looked up at me. The sandwich remained untouched.

  “You said you were famished. Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind.” I took a cautious seat on the edge of my office chair, silently praying that it wouldn’t tip up, and unwrapped my own sandwich.

  “Peyton, we had a call.”

  I glanced at Olivia, mouth hanging open mid-bite. “Another wrong number?”

  “No. A case.”

  I removed my teeth from the bread, ignoring the indentation they’d made. “Come again.”

  “We have a case, Peyton. The first case for Soul Seekers.” She broke into a grin. “We’re officially in business.”

  “Don’t keep me waiting!” I wheeled my chair closer to hers, sandwich long forgotten, wilting in the paper bag on my lap.

  Olivia grinned like the cat that got the cream and sat back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest. She eyed me from behind her specs, and the corner of her mouth twitched a little higher with every second that passed.

  “Olive!” I demanded, unable to wait any longer, grabbing her by the knee. “Tell me!”

  Her smug smile widened into a grin. She finally dropped her arms into her lap, shuffling in the chair slightly, and I knew she was ready to spill the beans now that she had the upper hand.

  “Keep your hair on. Okay,” she began, picking up the notepad with her small, neat scrawl on it. “So this woman who called—Janice was her name—said she’d been recommended your service by Adele.”

  I beamed.

  Adele was a friend of mine, one I spent lots of time with, particularly during AA meetings. I’d done her a favour not so long ago, cleansing her home after my presence created some drama. And now she was giving me good lip service. I knew the business would thrive on word of mouth. The more cases I took on, the more the word would spread. That’s exactly what I needed.

  “So what’s the case?” I pressed, eager to hear what my job would be.

  “Apparently, her mum’s house has been a hive of activity after her dad passed away. They’ve both been holding out, waiting for things to settle. They thought that the funeral would put an end to things, but apparently, he’s still very much kicking about the place.”

  “So let me get this straight,” I started, staring into space as I concentrated on the words that filtered through my brain. “The woman’s husband died, and he’s haunting the place?”

  “That’s what Janice said.” Olivia nodded. “Says her mum is terrified.”

  “Did she say what they’re experiencing?”

  “Janice says that the house is a chaotic mess. Whispering voices that are barely there, things that go bump in the night, cold spots. All the usual signs of a haunting.”

  “Look at you using all that technical jargon.” I grinned.

  “Hey, when your best friend is a recovering alcoholic who senses dead people, you learn a few things.” She shrugged.

  “You have a wonderful way with words.”

  “Besides, this isn’t our first case, Peyton.”

  “I guess you’re right.”

  Technically, yes, but we’d already dealt with an angry spirit in an old hotel, a host of women who were trapped in a cellar, and there was the Ouija board incident.

  I took a deep breath. We could do this.

  “So did you tell her I’d be going around?”

  “No. I said we have a very busy caseload at the minute and we would call her back as soon as we could with a date for an initial inspection.”

  My grin widened. “My God, woman, you’re a genius.”

  “I know. I think you made a good decision hiring me.”

  “I’m not sure you made such a good decision dropping your hours at the solicitors firm.” I bit my lip.

  My best friend had handed in her notice of hour change to her steady and predictable secretary job. From what I could tell, Stubbs and Oakley wasn’t too happy about it either. Now they had only one part-time receptionist instead of Olivia full time and me part time. She was currently working with me in an office that specialised in clearing out ghosts, and I couldn’t promise her any sort of constant income. I just had to hope that the word-of-mouth thing was going to work well for us and that business would pick up soon.

  “As much as I know you’re used to getting your own way, please be advised that I’m a grown woman and can make my own mind up,” she scowled. “I dropped my hours because that was my decision. I have absolute faith in you and the business. Things will get better.”

  “I know. Thank you. I don’t think anybody else would have belief in me.”

  “I don’t really have a choice when I’m being dragged to various locations to hunt out the spirits.” She broke into a grin.

  “Shut up and give me that number.”

  “Woah!” She held the paper away from me. “Chill, Peyton. You can’t call her right back.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because we’re trying to see how busy our schedule was.”

  “And that takes all of two minutes. Especially when you know as well as I do that our diary is empty.” I pointed to the A4-sized leather-bound book I’d scrounged, giving it pride of place in the office next to Olivia’s computer. So far, the pages were too blank for my liking.

  “Okay, fine. But make sure you tell her something believable, like you’ve had a cancellation or you’ve managed to squeeze her in between clients. It looks good for the company.”

  Nodding, I picked up the phone and dialled the number written on the notepad thrust in front of my face. My leg danced as it rang.

  “Hello?” A man answered.

  For a second, I was put out after expecting a female voice, but I quickly recovered, clearing my throat. “Yes, hello. This is Peyton Blaine of Soul Seekers. I would like to speak to—”

  “For God’s sake,” he muttered. “I can’t believe she called one of them nutters again.”

  “No, I’m sorry,” I interrupted, taken aback by his outwardly aggressive display. “I’m not sure who you think I am, but Janice called me for some help with the spirit in her mother’s home, and I’m returning her call. I’m a ghost hunter.”

  “Even better.” His sarcasm could rival Olivia’s.

  I glanced her way and saw that she was watching me intently. I thought about handing the phone over, but I wasn’t about to shy away from this just because he was getting a little shirty.

  “Could I speak to Janice, please?”

  “Fine.” He huffed. “But if this c
osts anything, it’s not going ahead.” He shouted her name.

  I listened to the background noise as the sound of footsteps approached. The man continued to moan, and then a female voice came on the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello. This is Peyton from Soul Seekers. I’m just—”

  “I’m sorry about my husband.” Janice sighed her apology. “He’s in a bad mood for some reason, and he thinks it’s appropriate to take it out on whatever poor soul happens to call. Thank you for calling back so quickly.”

  “No problem.” I relaxed into the call. “My secretary says you’ve been having some trouble.”

  A sharp sting on my leg diverted my attention, and I saw Olivia’s hand curling back up to her chest. Her jaw hung open, and her eyes were wide. I was going to pay for that comment later.

  “Yes.” Janice’s voice brought me back to the call. “My mother’s house is haunted.”

  “You say that with a very definite tone.”

  “Because I’m very sure of it. Since my dad died, things have changed in the house. My mum isn’t sleeping, so I’m not sleeping. I’ve seen things moved from one place to another. Noises, cold spots. That sort of thing.”

  She was reeling off a textbook haunting, but I wondered if she’d done an internet search first, because most people didn’t have a clue what constituted a haunting.

  “I’m not sure if Olivia explained, but our initial fee is one hundred pounds for consultation, which includes an initial investigation and a talk with yourself and your mum. Then we can discuss prices from there.”

  “No problem. Money isn’t an issue. I just want this sorted out.”

  “Janice!” Her husband’s voice broke into the background silence, and I knew he was listening to our conversation, clearly not very happy about having to pay out anything.

  Janice ignored him. “When can you come?”

  “I just checked the diary, and although we’re busy, I’ve tried to put in something fairly quickly. Would tonight work for you?”