Gheist

by Richard Mosses

  “I would like us to begin with acts of remembrance, and if you’re moved to do so, feel free to share with us what you recall.”

  There was an awkward pause where either no one was sure what to do or no one wanted to be the first to talk. Evelyn started to look a little desperate. The deceased were a tough crowd. What’s the worst you could do to them?

  It was almost unbearable, the silence and the look on Evelyn’s face. Someone stood up.

  “Clinton Jefferson. Y’all know me. I’m the black Marlboro man.” He paused anticipating the laughter. The cowboy talked in a drawl, but Kat couldn’t say yet which state he was from. “I remember how much I used to love those little sticks. I’d spark up and breathe in deep, exhale slow. Probably what got me in the end, but I ain’t complaining.”

  That got things moving along. Soon everyone who could had stood up and said something they remembered, except Kat. She was struck dumb, sitting amongst the dead, hearing them talk. Not just speak, but reminisce about parts of their lives. No one spoke about anything they’d done since.

  “Thank you, everyone,” said Evelyn. “I’ll move to our second reading from Matthew 12, Verse 32.

  “‘And whosoever speaketh a word against the Son of Man, it shall be forgiven him: but whosoever speaketh against the Holy Ghost, it shall not be forgiven him, neither in this world, neither in the world to come.’

  “When the Messenger declared this, he and his disciples were being attacked by Pharisees who considered their plucking of wheat on the Sabbath to be work and that the group had broken the law. The Messenger protested that the Pharisees were just finding fault to attack him, and he cast their arguments aside. He embarrassed them so badly they began their plot to have him removed, accusing him further of being in league with Satan. The Messenger reminded them that Satan would not work to cast out Satan, as a house divided against itself must fall. He didn’t care if he was attacked. It was expected, anticipated, prophesised. It was always going to be this way on his journey from flesh to spirit. But attacking his spirit that was unforgiveable. Because the ghost carries the true Message, the principle of the Message, and it is eternal where the flesh is not. And those that are left here keep that Message and are here to remember it for the Living. Which is why in Psalm 51, Verses 10 through 12, we read a plea:

  “‘Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me. Cast me not away from thy presence; and take not thy holy ghost from me. Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation; and uphold me with thy free spirit.’

  “Let us pray. Our father who art in heaven keep us from the waters of Lethe, let us drink of the waters of Mnemosyne, lead us to Elysium once we have done your work on earth.”

  After that Evelyn drew the brief service to a close.

  Wasn’t forgetting an important part of life? Wasn’t it a chance to heal, to recover? It was an odd service, a combination of bible and Greek myth. The books in Evelyn’s front room had been a curious collection. Perhaps this church wasn’t a new offshoot of Protestantism but something older, certainly weirder.

  “Clint,” the cowboy said, offering his free hand, the other held his hat. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “Hi,” Kat said, and half waved. What should she do? How do you shake a ghost’s hand? “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but I…”

  “It’s OK,” Clint said. “I’m just foolin’ with you.”

  “Hah,” she said and smiled. “You got some real deadpan humour there.”

  Clint chuckled. “Normally we’re very grave.”

  “You can come across as a bit stiff.”

  “Ma’am it really is nice to meet ya,” Clint said. “You livin’ folks never really know what to do with yourselves.”

  “That’s very gracious of you,” Kat said. “But I’m not one of the living and I really have no clue what to do. I’m kinda somewhere in between.”

  “What do you mean ‘in between’? I always thought it was a black an’ white issue.”

  “I’ve found the grey. It’s just as well or we wouldn’t be talking. Until I lost my heart I couldn’t see you guys.”

  “To lose one’s heart could be considered a misfortune. But maybe he’s a lucky fella and all is not lost. I’m sure he loves you too.”

  That was a joke too far. “He may have won it fair and square. It may even have been luck, but I have no love for Danton.”

  “Danton actually has your heart?” Clint frowned. “I’ve never heard of such a thing. How did he do that?

  “Some voodoo fellow with an Egyptian jar just took it right out.”

  Clint shook his head. “I’ve heard plenty about him, the current criminal kingpin, no one said anything about witch doctors or ghost dancers. What does he want for it?”

  Kat named a high figure. “I lost a lot of money, and my fiancée stole a lot more leaving me with the loan sharks.”

  “Losing a heart to two creeps looks like carelessness,” Clint said with a gentle smile. Kat didn’t respond. “What are you gonna do about it?”

  “Work for the money. Old-fashioned honest labour.” Kat looked at her watch. “Sorry, that must have seemed rude. I keep forgetting I’ve not got a shift tonight.”

  “Hey, don’t worry about it. Say, why don’t I introduce you to a few souls, while you’re here? You might see them around.” Kat followed Clint over to the front of the church where two men were talking about the racing.

  “Mickey Parker, this is, er…” Clint hadn’t got her name.

  “Katrina McKay, but call me Kat,” she said. These guys all seemed rather young to be dead. Mickey and Jack were surely in their twenties, while Clint was thirty something. It certainly wasn’t old age that took them.

  “They call me Fingers. He’s Jack the Knife Malone, for obvious reasons,” said Fingers, looking at Kat through round Steve Jobs glasses. Prematurely balding, thin and lanky, with long fingers and a long nose, he swept what greasy hair he had from one side of his head to the other. Fingers wore dark tight trousers and a close-fitting black jumper that emphasised how skinny he was. Despite the glasses his dress seemed fairly modern and he looked like he ought to be climbing up the outside of a skyscraper. He sounded like an Essex boy, with lazy vowels and dropped consonants. “You’re a long way from home.”

  “You’re don’t sound like a local either. And I’ve not met your cousin in Ullapool,” Kat said with a smile.

  Jack the Knife flipped a small knife blade with no hilt through his fingers. Kat had seen Tom Cruise do something similar with a pen in Top Gun. With slick hair and a well-tailored three-piece suit and tie Jack looked like a mobster stereotype. He was only missing the fedora. But there was something clearer and more focussed about his eyes than the others. He gave Kat the creeps. “Sharp one, this,” he said. Was that a Boston accent? Clint and Fingers laughed.

  “Kat tells me she lost her heart to one of the Strip’s finest. Danton himself,” said Clint. “Can you believe that?”

  “I’ve been dead a while, a was alive a little longer, and first I’ve heard of this. A dead person living is an everyday occurrence but the living being dead?” Jack shrugged. None of the others looked like they’d heard of it before either. “However, as a founder member of the Danton Fan Club, I’ll not have a word said against him,” said Jack. “These scurrilous rumours and outright slander are bang out of order. For a start everyone knows Danton is a fine upstanding member of society, fair in all his dealings and never known to stab anyone who helps him in the back.”

  “And,” said Fingers, “he’s a gentleman as well as a scholar. He wouldn’t take from you what wasn’t his. He gives to the poor and downtrodden, practically founded two orphanages alone, never mind the wing in the hospital named after him cos he sends so many there to be cared for. We’ll not have a word said against him. You should be grateful he took your heart. He could’ve taken so much more.”

  “Now boys, be nice. Maybe we can find another heart for the lady,” said Clint. “Show her th
at not everyone in this town is after her money, or her soul.”

  “Where do you suppose we could find her a heart?” Fingers said.

  “The morgue?” said Jack. “A hospital. Maybe Willy Wonder’s Old Curiosity Show? I heard they’ve got the Elephant Man’s heart, and his dick. Two for the price of one.”

  “I’m happy with what I’ve got,” said Kat. “Besides, I don’t think a penis would go with most of my outfits. I’ll just work hard and get my heart back properly.”

  “Where’s the fun in that?” said Clint. “Take it from us; you’ve got to live a little.”

  “I did that, and this is where I ended up,” said Kat.

  “What’s wrong with a replacement heart?” said Fingers. “People who get organs donated cope with them all the time.”

  “I don’t need a new heart,” said Kat. “I need my own one back.” She felt hollow inside. The emptiness needed to be filled. “Not that I don’t appreciate it, but why do you guys care anyway? We’ve only just met.”

  “It’s not often someone we know sees Danton’s pleasant side. It must have been his birthday,” said Fingers “Most of the folks we encounter have had a meeting with him that’s not so memorable. So it’s a way of evening the score. We help you and it’s one small spit in the eye for Danton.”

  “Beggars can’t be choosers, but I’d rather you did something to help me because you wanted to help me. Otherwise you’re just helping yourselves,” said Kat.

  “The lady’s got a point,” said Clint. “I knew I liked you. Don’t take this the wrong way; you’re way too honest and decent to be hangin’ around with a bunch of crooks and conmen like us.”

  “The best place to find sinners is in a church,” said Kat with a smile. Now she had a good idea why they’d died so young.

  “Sing Hallelujah,” said Clint, who looked like he was going to throw his hat in the air.

  “Of course, now you mention sinning, there may be the odd thing you could do to help out,” said Jack.

  Kat raised an eyebrow. Naturally, sooner or later the dead were going to want something from her.

  “Jack, c’mon,” said Fingers. “Hasn’t she suffered enough?”

  “Nothing in this world is free. You shmucks might want to donate your services to charity, but I won’t.”

  “Okay, what is it?” Kat asked.

  “I’ve been a bad boy,” Jack said earnestly. “I want to make up for what I’ve done.” His smile was cold. He seemed to have too many teeth. They looked sharp.

  “I see. And what do I get? How do I know you’ll make good on your end?”

  “Don’t question my word, lady,” Jack spat, his whole demeanour shifted. “I say I’ll do something, it’s binding. I’ll help you get your heart back, no more no less.”

  Kat was a little taken aback. Things had been going so well.

  “Hey, Jack. How long we known each other?” said Clint. “Forty, fifty years, in death? You’ve been yapping your gums about how mean you’ve been, how hard you were, and how you wanna make it up so you can get into heaven. Here it is, a chance comes along, and you go on about what you want. How about instead of talking about redemption, you start by helping this lady out, without a price? Maybe you’ll get what you want a whole lot quicker.”

  Jack looked like he’d been slapped and was going to get even. Clint had kept a level, friendly tone, but even Kat could hear a hint of steel in what he said.

  “I don’t think stabbing him will make much of a difference,” said Fingers.

  The air started to move, Kat felt a static spark lift her hair. What was going on?

  “Calm yourself, Jack,” Clint said. “Don’t want you getting’ excited and forgettin’ yourself. Come on, man, just think about it. If redemption were easy, none of us would be here.”

  “Okay,” said Jack. The breeze subsided and Kat’s hair fell down. “I’ll help, no conditions. But if you can help me make up for what I’ve done, I’ll appreciate it. We’ll get you a heart, just you see.” He smiled his shark’s smile.

  “Really, I only want my own.” Kat smiled to cover how tired she felt. “But thank you for wanting to help. I’ll see you after.” She left them and went to say goodbye to Evelyn. It had been exhausting. Around these guys you had to keep your wits about you. One wrong word and she’d be an accessory to, well, something underhand. At least they wouldn’t go find her a replacement heart, she’d never be sure it had been acquired through legitimate means. Like she’d been saying, she’d get her own back, the honest way.

  Evelyn had gotten changed and was on her way back to the church. “How was it?” she said.

  “It was my first service in years,” said Kat. “Interesting congregation you’ve got here.”

  “Goes with the territory,” said Evelyn. “Lot of dead people, but only certain types stay around after. Often they’re angry and feel wronged. They want some kind of justice. In this town there’s plenty of people the dead would love to pay back. But they’re dead, so their bark is way worse than their bite.”

  “Some of them have very convincing teeth,” said Kat. “I should be going.”

  “You’re welcome back, anytime,” said Evelyn.

  10

  It wasn’t like Kat had been running with the wrong crowd all her life. Until she came to Vegas she’d been a normal person, her most heinous crime was driving too fast. Her life had been dull, and safe. She’d worked wherever she was needed. Straight 9 to 5 admin support, always being moved from one firm to another. One place had wanted to take her full-time, but that hadn’t been for her. Tony had taken her gambling and she’d taken to it like a duck to water. Tony had taken her to the sharks and the underground games and she’d fitted right in.

  Now she was hanging out with dead people who also had been crooks. As if meeting spirits she could talk to wasn’t bad enough. And in the space of one conversation they’d help get her heart back just to get some small revenge on the local crime lord who had apparently gotten the better of all of them. So long as she did a few things for them.

  Why not help them out? Where was the harm in that if they were going to help her? Was it pride? She just had to do it on her own?

  They’d had another good idea. Just get a replacement. Why not?

  But no. There wasn’t any heart out there that matched better than her own. Kat wanted that one back, not a substitute that would deny someone else the chance to live. She was going to get it back the proper way.

  The tables could make that happen so much quicker. She could find her stash and take it to any casino in town. In a few hands she’d have doubled, tripled her money. She’d done it before. Just have to get there and get back before her shift. But if she was winning she wouldn’t need her shift. She’d be back on top.

  Yeah, she’d do that tomorrow. Get up early, maybe. Leave her washing for another day. She’d take a cab instead of the bus, put on her best clothes. Come to think of it she only really had a pair of jeans and an okay top. Maybe they wouldn’t let her in after all. She’d have to shop and use up some of her stash, or go to a place where there was a good chance they were altering the odds in their favour.

  She didn’t know what to do, except she kept going round in circles. Maybe she should talk to Evelyn? She’d help her decide. Yeah, to go down the sensible route. Stick to the straight and narrow. Why bother asking? Kat concentrated on getting her orders right.

  “So there you are,” Clint said.

  Kat jumped. This booth was empty and she was about to spray the table down. She sprayed away anyway. After the other night everyone already looked at her funny. “What do you want?” she said out of the corner of her mouth.

  “You’re not an easy person to find,” said Clint, putting his Stetson down on the table just after Kat had wiped it.

  “I can’t talk to you at the moment.” Kat looked around. Clint seemed…thinner than before, like a ghosted image on an old TV set. He was more see-through than yesterday. “You don’t look too good,”
Kat said.

  “Edge of my range, sweetheart,” said Clint, fading out and back in again.

  “Don’t call me that,” Kat whispered, and cleaned the table again. “You used to have a ranch out here?” There was a dark stain on the Formica that wasn’t coming off.

  “I can’t travel far from my anchor.”

  “Can’t you just weigh anchor and move?”

  “I could, but there’s just one small problem.” Clint lifted his arms and smashed them through the table with no effect, although he grimaced slightly. “No hands.”

  “Hey, sorry. You’re the one who started throwing jargon at me.”

  “This is beside the point. I have a proposition to run past you. I know you want to do things above board, but I am what I am. Why don’t we…” Clint said before fading like static on an old TV being turned off.

  This time he didn’t come back. A few minutes went by and Kat kept rubbing at that damned stain and then a new wave of customers came in.

  Why don’t we what? Whatever it was it must be dodgy or why all the caveats? Maybe they could help her with playing cards. A few dead folks standing behind the other players and she’d not need to read faces. And if they could do something with the dealer’s deck they’d make money in no time at all. The guys would probably want to do it in one of Danton’s places. She was fine with that. What else could he have meant?

  Kat smiled, and laughed for the first time in ages. Fortunately, no one was there to see it.

  Clint had exhausted himself. It wasn’t easy finding people in Vegas. It was a big town, and seemingly getting bigger by the day. Places he’d known to be desert were now malls and condos, meanwhile some of his old haunts where turning back into desert. At least one casino was sinking into the sands. It didn’t seem possible that there were parts of the city he couldn’t visit. This feeling of restraint, of captivity, was frustrating. For the first time in all these years the weight of his situation crashed over him. He had to face it; he was tethered. Wherever his anchor went he could follow.