“Any I can see?”
“Nary a one.”
“Nary? And you called me rude.”
I walk around the room taking a closer look at the sculptures. They’re strange little things. Intricate and crude at the same time. I think some of the bones might be human.
“Who maintains the grounds if you don’t have a staff?”
“People come and go. I find if you keep any crew around too long, they get bored and the work gets sloppy. A steady flow of new faces coming through keeps everyone on their toes.”
That’s the first thing he’s said that sounds like the rich asshole I was expecting. He doesn’t like me inside his castle. It’s more than me being rude. His heartbeat is up and his pupils are constricting under the strain of maintaining his calm.
He says, “The truth is, I value my privacy more than I value a pristine lawn. Now, how can I help you, Mr. Macheath? Amanda said you were visiting temples around California and had some questions about my collection.”
Good work, Amanda. Maybe I’ll keep your kid out of the fire after all.
“I do. First off, what exactly is it?”
“Ah, definitions. Always a good place to start. Most people who know about the estate say I—meaning the family—collect cemeteries. That is wrong. In fact, it’s backward. We collect ghosts. We’re a ghost sanctuary in much the same way that there are sanctuaries for wolves, tigers, and other endangered creatures. The cemeteries are the outward part of the work. Ghosts need someplace to live and most enjoy familiar places.”
“They don’t haunt the house?”
“A few try. I have a service for that. A team of Guatemalan witches comes by once a month and touches up the spirit barriers. They’ve been dealing with Mayan ghosts for five hundred years, so I think they know what they’re doing. I love my ghosts, but like the family cats, they’re outside, not inside friends.”
“How many dead friends live here with you?”
“I have no idea. Would you like a tour?”
“Why not?”
He looks relieved that he can finally get me back outside.
We walk around the front of the house to where a pristine golf cart is parked in the shade. I slide in next to Teddy and we head out into the wilds of his estate. I’m wearing the same shirt I had on when Amanda was over. I hope it’s dark enough to keep light from glinting off the armor. I don’t want to have to explain it to Teddy. Though I shouldn’t have to explain anything to a guy who uses skeletons like model kits. It’s a funny hobby for someone who comes off so reverential when talking about the dead.
“Amanda tells me you’re a high roller in the local temple. How’s that working out for you?”
Teddy shakes his head.
“Dear Amanda. She has all these fantasies about getting my little clan involved in the day-to-day drudgery of it all again.”
He turns to me quickly.
“I hope I’m not being offensive, you being from a temple yourself.”
“No. God’s a drag. The Devil’s a bore. The only people worse are the ones who run the temples. They think everyone should be on their hands and knees scrubbing the floors right along with them.”
“Well put,” says Teddy.
I wonder how Deumos is doing. Has anyone murdered her yet? I don’t know how long it will take Buer to design and build her temple but I bet it won’t be fast. Merihim and his crew will sabotage the project. Someone might blow the whole thing up the day it opens. That’s all Hell needs. Another martyr. I wonder if Deumos is counting on her fairy goddess godmother to protect her. That’s not a bet I’d take but then I’m surprised she and her church have lasted this long. Maybe they’ve got some angels on their side that don’t have horns and tails.
There’s a crowded subdivision of stone minimansions up ahead. A metal gate out front just says PARISH. Which parish it is fell off a long time ago. It’s an old New Orleans cemetery with its aboveground tombs hauled all the way up this hill like Fitzcarraldo hauled his boat.
“So you didn’t spend your summers at Satan sleepaway camp burning Bibles and pissing on crucifixes?”
Now that we’re on his turf, Teddy seems more relaxed. He takes out a black Sobranie cigarette, puts it in his mouth, then takes it out again without lighting it.
“I spent my summers here or with my father or grandfather scouting new haunted places in need of protecting. I’m polite to Amanda and her crowd but I haven’t been to one of their meetings in years. No one in the family has taken them all that seriously since Grandfather.”