"Bennett, Cherie - Sunset Island 009 - Sunset Scandal" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bennett Cherie)

"Look up there," Katie said in a hushed voice, pointing to an old house at the very top of the hill. "That's the ghost house."
"Katie, there's no such thing as ghosts," Emma said.
"Yes there is," Katie replied. "Chloe told me," she added gravely, naming the five-year-old Templeton child whom Carrie took care of.
"Well, Chloe's wrong, honey," Emma said. "It's just a very old house. Probably no one even lives there anymore."
"But Chloe said real ghosts live there," Katie said, her eyes wide. "Scary ones. You can't touch a ghost, but it can do things to you, like make you get all bloody."
Emma shook her head. The workings of Katie's mind amazed her sometimes. "Sweetie, ghosts are just a made-up, pretend thing," she said soothingly. "Like a cartoon."
They walked farther up the hill, and to Emma's surprise she saw that someone had pushed open the shutter on one of the front windows. The shutter swung in the light breeze, emitting a creaking noise.
"A ghost!" Katie screamed, grabbing Emma around the waist and burying her head against Emma's stomach.
"No, honey, it's just the shutter. The people who live there must have opened it," Emma said.
"You said no one lived there!" Katie cried. "It must be a ghost!"
Emma knelt down and held Katie at arm's length. "I just guessed that no one lived there," she explained. "But apparently someone does. A real person, just like us."
"It might be a ghost," Katie said, her lower lip quivering.
"I'll tell you what," Emma said. Til prove to you that whoever lives there is just a normal person. We'll go try to get a donation at that house."
"No! We'll get all bloody!" Katie screamed.
"Katie, you know I love you and I'd never do anything to hurt you, right?" Emma asked the little girl.
Katie nodded, her eyes round with fright.
"Okay, then. We'll go up to that house and you'll see that there are no ghosts, and then you'll feel better."
"You promise there aren't ghosts?" Katie asked. She put one finger in her mouth, a gesture left over from her baby days.
"I promise," Emma said.
"Cross your heart and hope to die?" Katie asked.
"Cross my heart and hope to die," Emma
echoed. "Now, come on." She led Katie toward the house.
Emma had to admit that it really did look like something from a gothic horror novel. Weathered black shutters framed an odd assortment of windows, and the roof was dominated by what looked like a circular walkway. The front door was at least ten feet tall and painted jet black. Emma stared up at it. It really was creepy-looking. She stifled a shudder, lest she scare Katie.
"I think maybe we should leave now," Katie said in a small voice. "Sally wouldn't like it here." Sally was Katie's favorite doll, to whom Katie often ascribed her own point of view.
"I'm sure the people here are perfectly normal," Emma assured the little girl. She reached up for the brass knocker on the door, then pulled her hand back. The knocker was in the shape of a skull.
Hoping Katie wouldn't notice the strange decoration, Emma pounded directly on the door. Just then a bird cawed overhead, and both Katie and Emma jumped.
"You're scared, too!" Katie accused.
"No, of course I'm not," Emma said. She
hated lying. You're letting your imagination get the best of you, Emma chastised herself. You're supposed to be the adult here!
Slowly, the heavy door creaked open. Emma and Katie looked up ... and up, at a very tall, very thin man with a gaunt face. He wore an old black tuxedo.
"Yeeeees?" the man asked in a low voice.
"Uh, hello," Emma said nervously. "I'm Emma Cresswell. I'm here with COPE." She handed him her laminated COPE card, which he looked at curiously. "COPE stands for Citizens of Positive Ethics," Emma continued.
"Are you a citizen of positive ethics?" the tall man asked.
"I ... I try to be," Emma said.
"Well, I'm only a butler, so I can't help you," the man answered. He handed Emma back her card. Emma thought she saw a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
Of course, he's the butler, Emma thought to herself. A tuxedoed butler answers our front door, too! Emma, you are really losing it!
"May I speak with whomever lives here?" Emma said pleasantly.
"Some people live here, and some people die here," the butler growled in his hoarse, low voice. Emma almost jumped.
"Emma, I want to go now," Katie whispered frantically.
"It's okay, honey," Emma said soothingly.
"But I have to go to the bathroom first.'" Katie whispered.
"Is there a bathroom she could use?" Emma asked the butler.
He pointed one cadaverous finger toward a door off the hall.
"Come with me," Katie said, wrapping her fingers tightly around Emma's hand. Emma went willingly. She didn't particularly want to be alone with the creepy butler, anyway.
The bathroom was painted completely black. A coffin-shaped box held black tissues. A painting of a witch with crazed, evil eyes hung over the sink.
"I don't like it here," Katie whispered as she sat on the black toilet.
"Me neither," Emma admitted. No point in pretending everything in this house was normal. Katie was too smart to be fooled.
"Can we leave now?" Katie asked while Emma helped her wash her hands in the black sink.
"Yes," Emma said. She reached for the hand towel, which was, of course, black. Then to her horror she noticed that red handprints marched over the towel, as if someone had pressed the towel to their bloody hand over and over again. It's just a design, Emma realized with a sigh of relief. The handprints are part of the towel. Quickly Emma stashed it behind her and grabbed some of the tissues for Katie to wipe her hands with.
"We are outta here," Emma said resolutely as she opened the bathroom door.