Knead Some Space

by Harley Gordon

  Rogelio sat back, his disappointment obvious. “Ah. Okay.”

  “If I find any that are worth more than a couple bucks, you can have them.” Novah only really wanted the ones that held the hidden information.

  The rest she’d probably have to donate since she didn’t have room for more books in her place.

  “No, it’s fine. She wanted you to have them. I don’t much care for reading, so it’s not really a big deal.” Rogelio sounded stiff and annoyed.

  If it was no big deal, why was anger pulsing through him?

  “All right. Works for me.”

  A tentative tapping came from the frosted window on the door and the lawyer’s assistant poked her head inside. “Ms. Arthurs is here.”

  “Ah. Yes. Send her in, please.”

  The assistant’s head disappeared the Martha Arthurs replaced her, nervousness and confusion radiating from her.

  “Sorry I’m late.”

  “No problem. I just finished explaining to these two what Ms. Diaz’s last wishes were for them, so you’re right on time.”

  Martha scooted past Rogelio to take the chair in the middle, a waft of roses following her. “Oh. Okay. I don’t really understand why I’m here. Rachel and I haven’t been in touch in years. I don’t know why she would’ve left me anything.”

  “Well, she didn’t exactly leave you anything. There’s a letter she wanted you to read though you’re not allowed to take it out of the office.”

  Martha stiffened. “What? That’s insane.”

  Mr. Dennis winced. “I tried to talk her out of it, but she was firm and she refused to explain. No one else will read the letter but you, so don’t worry about that.”

  “I have to read it right here?” Panic pulsed from Martha.

  She really didn’t want to read it with an audience.

  What was Rachel playing at?

  Mr. Dennis nodded, looking uncomfortable. “Yes.”

  Martha raised her chin with a sniff. “And if I refuse?”

  “You don’t have to read it at all, of course. You can refuse the letter and I’ll destroy it per her instructions. I must admit, Ms. Diaz had proved to be an unusual client.”

  Martha rolled her eyes with a loud sigh. “She always liked her games, proving she was she smartest person in the room.”

  Novah stiffened, barely stopping herself from jumping at Rachel’s sudden presence in the room.

  “She won’t be able to help herself. She’ll have to read it.” Rachel’s lips curled into an angry grin.

  “What’s your decision?” Mr. Dennis asked.

  “I guess I’ll read it. I can’t refuse her last wish for me.” She held her hand out for the letter.

  “So sweet. Sadly I missed my brother and his greedy eyes. You’ll have to tell me later how mad he was that I donated all my actual money and he’s just getting a bunch of junk other than a couple small pieces that might get him a couple hundred dollars.”

  What game was Rachel playing? Novah didn’t understand. Clearly, Rachel wanted Novah to see her family drama, but did it have anything to do with her death or was it something else?

  Were they pawns in Rachel’s final caper?

  Novah wished for once Rachel would just be straight with her. Even though ghosts never remembered the moment of their death or the moments surrounding it, Rachel should still have had some ideas.

  Other than secret government agents.

  Martha took the letter from the lawyer and opened it with trembling hands. Novah fidgeted with the metal parts of her purse, trying not to stare, incredibly uncomfortable with the way this was unfolding.

  Martha’s shock and horror and guilt washed over Novah, flushing out her own frustration and confusion and sadness.

  Whatever was in that letter must have been powerful stuff. Novah eyed Rachel’s smug expression and crossed arms.

  Maybe Rachel wasn’t the innocent victim in all this. How well did Novah really know the woman? All their interactions were restricted to research and conspiracies.

  And Novah was convinced the only reason she was bequeathed the books was because Rachel was planning something and didn’t want her brother or the cops to end up with whatever else she had hidden in those books.

  Martha’s cheeks flushed a furious red and her lips thinned into a single line slashed across her face. Her fingers clutched the paper so tight, her knuckles turned white and she crumpled the edges.

  Rogelio didn’t both trying to hide his curiosity, staring directly at Martha with an expectant frown on his face, like he was waiting for her to start reading it out loud.

  As curious as Novah was too, she wanted out of this room more.

  The lawyer busied himself with the paperwork on his desk, looking as uncomfortable as Novah felt.

  This was just how she wanted to spend the day after throwing a wake for a woman she barely knew who still refused to leave her alone.

  She was done.

  Novah couldn’t keep putting her own life on hold to try to figure out what happened to Rachel and hope it brought her peace.

  This was too exhausting and ridiculous. As much as Novah enjoyed a good mystery and conspiracy theory, this was a lot less fun than she expected. It was just sad.

  Martha cleared her throat, fighting to keep her composure, and shoved the letter back in the envelope. “Was there anything else?”

  The lawyer took the letter back and slid it into a folder. “No. You’re all free to go. Mr. Diaz and Ms. Miller, the two of you should decide a time to divide up Ms. Diaz’s things.”

  “I live in her building, so I can come down any late afternoon or evening.”

  “How about the day after tomorrow?” Rogelio asked.

  “Works for me.”

  “I’ll call.”

  “Great. Talk to you then.” Novah turned to the lawyer. “Thank you.”

  “Of course. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Novah didn’t know what to say, so she smiled awkwardly and got out of there.

  Unfortunately, Rachel followed her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Rachel followed Novah into her truck.

  “What do you want? More riddles?” Novah slammed the door closed and started her vehicle.

  “Do you want to know what you are?” Rachel asked.

  Novah jerked her head to stare at the irritating ghost. “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Of course. I’ve been searching for answers my whole life. Do you have some more hoops I need to jump through to finally get some answers from you?”

  “I haven’t been trying to make you jump through hoops. But I’m keeping tabs on a lot of people to try to figure out who killed me.”

  “You keep saying cryptic things and disappearing.”

  “My death isn’t all about you. I’m not the ghost of Christmas past here to teach you a lesson. Or Yoda. Or whatever. I have my own issues I’m working through so I can get to wherever is next.”

  Novah tried to focus on driving, not wanting to wreck. “Sorry. But you seem to want my help figuring out what happened to you or at least to keep your things safe, but you are making it as confusing as possible.”

  “Well, I have a few minutes. So ask away. You have until we make it back to our apartment building.”

  “What am I?” Novah’s heart rate sped up and her palms broke out in sweat, slippery on the steering wheel.

  “You’re a psychic. Specifically an empathic one.”

  “What were you before you were a ghost?”

  “Also a psychic. But I was a precognitive psychic. I couldn’t exactly predict the future. Not with any precision, but I usually had an idea from studying dreams and tarot cards.”

  “It didn’t save you though.”

  Rachel shook her head sadly. “No, it didn’t. But it did give me the information I needed to prepare for it.”

  “And even your extra abilities didn’t give you any enlightenment in who would kill you?”

 
“Nope. Our abilities aren’t exactly as magical and wonderful as fiction would have us believe. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that.”

  “No. I’d give up my powers in a heartbeat if I could.”

  “It an drive you a little crazy. Make you a little paranoid.”

  “I guess so.”

  Definitely.

  “All right. Enough feeling sorry for ourselves. What else?”

  “What else is out there?” Novah asked.

  “As far as I know, only psychics. We can all see and talk to ghosts, but there are a lot of different types. Divination, clairvoyance, aura reading, astral projection, retrocognition, scrying, remote viewing, second sight.”

  “Are we witches?”

  Rachel shook her head with a laugh. “No. There are no spells involved. We just have extra abilities compared to regular humans.”

  “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

  “I don’t tell anyone. Just like you. I already explained this. We all had to be careful. As soon as one other person knows, it’s only a matter of time before it spreads. All it takes is one overheard comment in the wrong place in front of the wrong person. It’s a secret I protected harder than any other I’ve ever had.”

  “Why did you keep files on me? That wasn’t exactly keeping my secret.” Novah hated the thought of files containing her secrets hanging around.

  “Yeah, that was my bad. In my defense, I did encrypt them heavily. I could’ve chosen a better hiding place though. That agent found it way too easily.”

  “Have you found anything on him?”

  “No. He’s incredibly sneaky. We’re here. I have to go. I need to see what Martha decides to do now that she read my letter.”

  “When are you going to explain that whole scene?”

  “Later. You used up your time with other questions.”

  Novah sighed and shook her head. Right when she was ready to wash her hands of the whole affair, Rachel sucked her back in, like she sensed Novah was out.

  Novah couldn’t tell if Rachel was trying to actually help her or was just manipulating her.

  Either way, Novah finally had some answers.

  She wasn’t alone.

  She had a name for what she was.

  Psychic.

  Based on the research she’d done on myths and magic, the term fit. Even though when she heard someone mention a psychic, she had always thought of them more as the stereotypical women in scarves, sitting in a cloud of incense and claiming to reach your long lost loved ones, conning people out of their money.

  Merlin’s beard, she forgot all about the autopsy report. She scrambled for her bag and pulled it out, unfolding it and her mouth dropping open as she read over the information.

  It wasn’t an animal that killed Rachel.

  It was a blasted bbq fork.

  Unless they faked the report.

  Who knew at this point.

  Novah sighed again and hopped from her truck, heading inside.

  She’d figure all this out tomorrow. For now, she just wanted to get into comfortable clothes, hang with her ghost kid, and relax under the stars.

  Today sucked and she just wanted it to be over.

  She unlocked the door and shoved it open. “I’m back.”

  Novah kicked her uncomfortable heels off and dropped her keys on the table by the front door.

  “Samantha?”

  No response.

  Mother of moons, where was she?

  “Samantha?”

  Still nothing.

  Novah hurried into her room to grab her sneakers and shove her feet into them.

  There was only one place that Samantha could be.

  Where she always went when she was upset.

  And as much as Novah hated going there, she needed to get her girl.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Thankfully, it didn’t take long to drive to the cemetery. Novah screeched to a stop in front of the gate and grabbed her flashlight.

  Though the moon was bright enough to light her way.

  Novah followed a familiar and well-worn path to Samantha’s gravestone where she found her favorite ghost.

  “Samantha. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Was today too much? Too many people?” Novah stopped next to her.

  Samantha shook her head. “No. It wasn’t the people.”

  “Then what was it?” Novah asked.

  “Just all the fake grieving. No one there actually cared that Rachel was gone.”

  Ah. Of course.

  “Rachel kept herself pretty distant from people. It was hard for her to make connections. And people do tend to be...well, weird at funerals.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “People don’t always know how to react to and handle death. It can cause them to act cold or odd. But it doesn’t mean no one cared. Maybe some of the people there came for the spectacle, but that I saw was Rachel touched more lives than I realized. Maybe they weren’t heartbroken she was gone, but they still wanted to pay their respects and share stories about her.”

  “It seemed like they were making fun of her.” Samantha wrapped her arms around her middle, looking so small and sad and confused.

  Novah tried to figure out how to explain things without lying. “They were a little. But not in a mean way, I don’t think. I didn’t feel any mean edges to their feelings today. They were just exchanging stories, trying to cheer each other up.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. I know it’s confusing. They’re confusing for me too.”

  “I thought it would be fun to spy on the people for information, but it just made me sad.”

  Novah wished she could hug her. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. You shouldn’t have had to do that.”

  “It’s okay. It just wasn’t as exciting as it sounded like. There was no intrigue or dangerous secrets. I didn’t hear anything helpful.”

  “It doesn’t matter. We’ll still figure it out.”

  “Will we?”

  Novah sighed and rubbed at her aching lower back. “Honestly, I have no idea. I have more questions than answers at this point, but I’m going to keep trying.”

  “I still want to help.”

  “You will. But first, we need to go home because we’re about to be surrounded.” Novah eyed the ghosts floating towards them, coming from all directions.

  “Right. Sorry. I know it’s weird for you here.”

  “I’m fine, kiddo. But I do want to get out of this uncomfortable dress. And I’m starving.”

  “Dorothy brought over a couple casseroles.”

  “Gross. But okay. Better than cooking.”

  “They’re getting closer. Let’s go.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Novah and Samantha spent the whole next day together, a nice lazy Sunday watching old Doctor Who episodes. It was just what Novah needed after the madness of the last week.

  Rogelio called Monday morning and ruined her mood. “I boxed up the books and dropped them at your door.”

  “What? I told you I’d come get them. But I’m not at home right now.”

  “I did what the will demanded. Thanks for all your help.”

  “Uh. Sure.”

  Rogelio hung up without a goodbye or even pretense of politeness.

  Novah groaned. “Buffy save me. This guy is such a Jar Jar Binks.”

  Talia shot her a worried glance. “Uh oh. That’s one of your worst insults other than calling someone Joffrey.”

  “I haven’t decided if he’s murderous as well as annoying yet. Though he’s straddling the edge.”

  “Who?”

  Novah curled her hands into fists. “Rachel’s brother. He dropped off her books at my door instead of waiting for me to be home so I can come pick them up. Or at least be there to accept the boxes instead of leaving them in the hallway.”

  “Go. I’ve got this. You go ahead and take care of things.”

  “Thanks, Talia. Sorry I’ve left you
to handle the business so much lately.”

  “That’s why we went in on this together. You’ve covered for me plenty too. We’ll get back to normal soon.”

  “I hope so.” Novah wasn’t sure all this real-life investigating was for her.

  Not when she already had a full-time job running a donut shop.

  “Good luck. Just take the rest of the day. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “You’re the best.”

  “I know.”

  By the time Novah made it back home, she had another headache forming from gritting her teeth and trying to slow her racing mind.

  Why was Rogelio so insistent on bringing the books by before she had a chance to come help pack them up? Was there something in Rachel’s apartment he didn’t want her to see? Or were there books he didn’t want to give her? It wasn’t like she had a list of all the books she inherited. She only had the title of one which held the cipher. What if he found it? What if he looked through all the books and found whatever Rachel hid inside them?

  Was he the one who killed her?

  He seemed really invested in a payout, not wanting to share even a small pittance he might’ve made on the books. Could he have decided to kill her for the money he didn’t end up getting? He’d definitely been shocked and not in a completely innocent way when he heard she donated all the money, only leaving him what was probably junk in his opinion.

  She’d have to look into him. After she found the cipher and the USB with a copy of the files Agent Smith confiscated.

  Novah groaned as she took in the massive boxes blocking her door. Rogelio was definitely moving over more into Joffrey territory.

  How was she even supposed to get in her house?

  With a frustrated shake of her head, Novah dropped her purse on the floor and started moving the heavy boxes. She definitely needed to get back to the gym and work on weight training. Her arms were shaking and sore before she moved three boxes. But it made enough of a hole for her to reach her door.

  She got it open and started shoving boxes into her apartment with her foot, giving her pathetic arms a break.

  It was going to take her hours to go through all these. If she’d been able to pack them herself, she could’ve focused on the important ones first.