by Erin Huss
My breath huffs out in a cloud, and a shiver runs down the length of my spine. A man appears beside Don. He’s wearing a blue plaid short-sleeved shirt, baggy jeans, and his head is shaved.
Also, he’s dead.
The spirit swats the knife out of Don’s hand, sending it crashing against the wall on the opposite side of the room.
Oh, my word. I have never seen a spirit do that before.
“Jabba?” I say in disbelief. “I mean … Jose?”
The spirit glares down at me with his familiar golden eyes.
It is Jose! He’s here, and he’s in human form, and for a moment I forget about the pain in my leg.
Don’s eyes are darting frantically around the room. “H-how did that knife fly?”
Jose smacks Don across the face.
Don yelps out in pain. “I am insane. I have lost my mind.” He falls onto the couch. “This is it.” He drops his head into his hands. “I’m crazy!”
Jose rolls his eyes. “What a sissy.”
“He’s not a sissy,” I say, unsure of why I feel the need to defend the man who just stabbed me in the leg.
Never mind, I know exactly why I feel the need to defend Don. I know what it feels like to be called crazy. Even though in this case he might actually need professional help.
“I didn’t used to be like this,” Don cries. “I was a normal guy, going to school, working, dating, exercising, and then I got sick. I’ve been to doctor after doctor after doctor, and no one can help me. They all tell me it’s in my head. So I went to a psychologist who put me on meds that make me feel paranoid, and I still feel sick. No one knows what is wrong with me, and they just keep referring me to other doctors.”
He’s on meds. That explains the foggy brain.
“Tell him to shut uuupppp,” Jose moans. “Call the cops already, and get this fool out of here.”
“Hold on.” I get up slowly and inspect the wound on my leg. It’s not bad. A little blood but not deep enough to warrant stitches. I don’t think.
I hobble over to Don and sit beside him on the couch. At first I keep my hands in my lap. Then I remember Don is alive, and I can hug him. So I do.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jose grunts. “The guy stabs you, and now you’re hugging him. I just came out of hiding for nothing!” He storms down the hall and slams my bedroom door closed.
Don looks up. “What was that?”
“The wind,” I say. “Listen to me. I know you’re not crazy. I know that you are suffering. I can feel it. I can see it.” I can also see now that his spirit isn’t dark. It’s not necessarily light either. I do know that he did not mean to stab me and he had no intention of hurting Rose. All he wanted were answers as to why Dr. Batch would send someone to break into his apartment. It does not mean that I condone using weapons to get answers, but I did promise Connie I would look after him.
“I’m a hopeless case,” Don says in the utmost despair. He opens his backpack and takes out a stack of business cards and fans them out. “I’ve been to so many doctors.”
Mike’s vision comes to my mind with the business card path leading to my mother. Oh, gosh. I scoot over. “Uh, Don, what exactly happened after you left Dr. Batch’s office yesterday?”
“I was caught by the police.”
“Right, but where were you going?”
“They pulled me over right outside Lakeshore Estates, where Dr. Batch lives,” he says.
“What were you planning to do once you got there?”
“I was going to see if she was there and ask her why she sent you to my apartment.”
Don is clearly troubled, and I do feel bad. But now I’m convinced he was going to hurt my mother. Who knows exactly how or why he would have attacked her, but perhaps he would have noticed the big, bright van with LANE printed on the side and put two and two together. The business cards could have fallen out from his backpack while he was retrieving his scissors or his knife. One thing is very clear to me, and that is Don does need help, immediately.
“You should see Dr. P!” I say, suddenly remembering. “He’s the Sherlock of medicine. He’ll be able to find out what is wrong. He has a wait list, but I have an appointment tomorrow. You can take it!”
“Dr. who?”
“Dr. P! He’s in the same building as Dr. Batch. It’s perfect. I’ll call and let them know that I am giving you my appointment. Make sure you tell him your entire medical history. I’m sure he can help you. He deals with the entire body.”
“Why are you helping me when I just stabbed you?”
“Because I promised Dr. Batch that I would. I can’t promise you that this new doctor will be any better. The only thing I know about him is that he’s called Sherlock, his waiting room smells like lemon, and he has a uterus attached to this bathroom key. But it’s better than going around and threatening people at knifepoint.” I rub my leg. “I’ll give you the number.” I pull out my phone. “Then I’d like you to leave because, well, you did stab me and I don’t entirely trust you.”
“Yeah, I get it.” Don takes out his phone and saves the number.
Twenty-Two
“How did you get this stab wound?” Dr. Karman asks. I’m lying on an exam table in the pediatric wing of his office Why he still insists on treating me as an adolescent is beyond me.
“I tripped in the curtains while holding a knife.”
Dr. Karman swings his stethoscope around his neck and gives me a skeptical look. “You’re sticking with that story?”
“Yep. Do I need stitches?”
“It’s not deep enough,” he says, reexamining the wound. “I’ll clean it up and get you Motrin.”
Dr. Karman’s answer for everything is Motrin.
The good doctor bandages up my wound, gives me 800 mg of Motrin, and I hobble out of there an hour later. I’m physically exhausted. I’m not sure I could sleep right now even if I wanted to. And it’s not just because of the pain in my leg, but also because of Jose.
Why was he hiding?
Doesn’t he want to transition?
Doesn’t he want to find peace?
Isn’t he glad to no longer be a cat?
There are a lot of questions, but at least I can ask them without having to dish out two grand first. I imagine the good people of Fernn Valley will be devastated when they hear the reward is off the table.
There is a group of people standing on my lawn when I get home. Mike and my mother are in the midst, talking to Mrs. Batch.
I stumble out of my car. “What is going on?”
“There she is!” Mrs. Batch pushes past everyone to get to me. She throws her arms around my shoulders and squeezes me tight. “Thank you for what you did for my family,” she says into my ear. “What a gift you gave my grandson and great-grandson.”
My heart melts, and I feel like crying, but I don’t. Mostly because Jabba/Jose appears right beside me. “These people are so sappy I want to hack a fur ball.”
I can already tell he’s going to be a joy to work with.
Mrs. Batch releases me, and I look around at all the familiar faces. Mr. Batch, Mrs. Clark, Mr. Clark, Brian, Beth, and the entire wait staff from Glady’s along with Mr. and Mrs. Muffin from Butter Bakery.
“What is everyone doing here?” I ask.
“We have a present for you.” Brian smirks and holds up an animal carrier. “Everyone felt so bad that they were unable to find your cat that they chipped in and bought you a new one.”
“Ta-da,” says Mrs. Batch. “It’s the black cat from the shelter you saw this morning.”
I’m touched beyond words.
Brian pulls the cat from the cage and hands him to me. The sweet kitty doesn’t bite, or scratch, or hiss. He nuzzles his head under my chin and purrs.
Oh, my gosh. I’m in love.
Jose shoves his finger down his throat and pretends to gag.
Brian gives me a side hug, not wanting to disturb the cat.
“I heard about Connie Batch,” Brian
says in my ear. “Everything good now?”
“Yes.”
“Did you find Jose?”
“Yes.”
“Where is he?”
“He’s here.”
“This should be good.” Brian flashes a smile and removes his arm. I can feel my cheeks go red, and I don’t know why. I’m completely over Brian … right?
Later that night, I curl up on the couch with my new cat, and my boyfriend, and a cup of hot chocolate, and Jose, who is sprawled out in the middle of the floor, and all feels right in my world, if even for a moment.
“Are you going to tell me what really happened to your leg?” Mike asks.
I shoot Jose a look. Earlier I’d warned him not to tell Mike about Don.
He reluctantly agreed, but only because, “Mike is one of the few humans I can stand.”
“It was an accident.” I take a sip of my hot chocolate. “I bet the purple in the future is gone now, though.”
Mike shakes his head. “No, I still see purple. It’s fuzzy, but it’s there.”
Huh?
“What did you decide to name him?” Mike strokes the cat asleep on my lap.
“I think I’m going to name him—”
“Arnold Schwarzenegger,” says Jose.
Seriously? “As in the former California governor?”
“No, as in the Terminator,” says Mike. “I love those movies.”
“And I love this guy.” Jose points to Mike. “I knew he had good taste.”
“I was thinking more like Fluffy, because he’s so cute and fluffy,” I say in my best baby voice. “Aren’t you, Fluffy?”
“No,” Mike and Jose say in unison.
“You’re not naming my successor Fluffy,” says Jose. “I know what it’s like to have a name that sucks. Jabba? Really? You named me after an alien blob. Give this cat a shot at life. He deserves a good name. How about Terminator?”
“I’m not naming him Terminator. I’ll call him Arnold. That’s a happy compromise, right?”
Jose and Mike agree.
“Good.” I set my mug on the side table. “Now, Jose, let’s talk about why you were hiding from me.”
“Nah.”
“Please?”
“Don’t feel like talking.”
“You’re going to need to tell me sooner or later.”
“Later.”
“You know that I can read thoughts.”
“You’re such a freak,” Jose grunts. He turns on his side and leans up on his elbow. “I hoped that if I hid long enough, a spirit would show up and distract you from looking into my past. And I was right. I didn’t need you messing with my contentment.”
“You’re happy as a cat?” I’m shocked. I assumed he was a grumpy cat because he was stuck here on earth. I assumed that he needed my help. I assumed wrong, apparently. “Don’t you want to transition to the next phase of existence?”
Jose stares at me as if he’s never heard anything so stupid in his entire life. “Cats eat and sleep, and humans take care of the rest. Why would I want to go anywhere else? Be anything else?”
He does make a point. “If you love being a cat so much, then why aren’t you one right now?”
“Because …” He arches an eyebrow and pretends to stab the air.
Oh, I got it. He came to life when I was in danger. Guess Mike isn’t the only human he can stand.
“You can’t take a freaking hint, Lane,” says Jose with a sigh.
“What hint?”
“I’ve watched you research my conviction, and I have tried to stop you by sitting on your whiteboard, and sitting on your laptop, and biting you when you try to pet me, and sitting on your face when you sleep.”
“You always act like that! I thought you were grumpy because you were stuck.”
“At first, sure. I was frustrated because I was trapped with a child medium that could no longer see me. One night, I found a dead, feral cat in the backyard. I figured the cat needed a spirit, and I needed a body, so … bam! It worked. Who knew? I thought that I’d hang out in the cat until you grew up.
"Then the years went by, and you got weirder with your stupid romance novels and inability to socialize, and I got used to being a cat.” He rolls to his back and looks up at the ceiling. “I was good with my life, and now I can no longer eat tuna because I no longer have a body. Do you know how hard it was to wedge myself under your hutch with the creepy dolls and stay there without food for several hours?”
“Can’t you change back to a cat?” Mike asks.
“Nope. I’ve tried several times. I’m now stuck like this.”
This was certainly not the explanation I was expecting. “Isn’t there someone that you want to say good-bye to?”
“Nah.”
“Okay, what about the man who did kill your nephew? Do you want to find him?”
“Nah.”
“What about the DA who put you away? Don’t you find it unfair that you got the death penalty?”
Jose yawns and stretches his arms out in front of him then says, “Nah.”
Well, okay, this is an unexpected twist. “You realize that we’re going to have to find you peace whether you want it or not, right?”
“Meh,” he says and closes his eyes. “I could just follow you around forever.”
“No, thanks.”
Twenty-Three
One month later.
“How long are you going to be gone?” Beth asks. We’re at The Gazette, and she’s leaning back in her chair with her feet propped up on her side of the desk.
“We’ll be gone a week.” I swing my purse over my shoulder. “Have you ever been to Los Angeles?”
“A few times. It’s crowded and hot and it smells like urine. Be sure to watch your step.”
“Gross.” I power down my computer. “Do you think I’ll see any movie stars?”
“Last time I was there, I saw the Mayhem Guy from the Allstate commercials at a Trader Joe's. He was buying lettuce.”
“Seriously? I love those commercials!” I grab my camera from the bottom drawer of my desk.
Beth tucks her short hair behind her ears. “What I want to know is how you got Chief to agree to send you to Los Angeles for an article. This is Fernn Valley. No one gives a crap about what happens in SoCal.”
“You never know, and I have a connection to the story.” I smile inwardly, thinking of Jose.
“Lucky. I never go anywhere.” Beth drops her feet and scoots closer to the desk. “I’m still working on the recap of this Goalmouth race.” She clicks her mouse and pulls up her article. “It is almost as boring to write about as it was to watch.”
“I actually thought it was a lot more fun than I anticipated.” Granted, I had anticipated having zero fun at Goalmouth, so it wasn’t hard to exceed my expectations. The race was last weekend on the gloomiest day of the year. Mike’s team consisted of his buddies from his softball team and Russell.
I’d parked myself in a tent at what they called “Home Base” and chatted with Connie for a while about life after death and the doll collection that I’d dropped off at her house the week prior. When she went home to check on Elijah, I spent the rest of the race chatting with Brian. We’ve both been busy, and it was nice to catch up with him.
Sadly, Mike’s team—the Fernninators—came in last place. Also, I’d underestimated how much Mike liked the Terminator movies and just how many there were. He and Jose have been watching them for the past week while I cuddle Arnold.
“You ready?” Mike drops his laptop case on my desk. “We better head out.”
“I get why she’s going,” says Beth, pointing a pencil at me. “But I don’t get why Brian is sending the IT guy.”
Mike turns a smidgen toward Beth. “To help with IT.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Beth taps her pencil on the desk. “Sure. We’ll go with that. You two have fun, and remember to always look for urine.”
“Will do.” I give her a hug good-bye and wave to the rest of my co-work
ers who barely lift their heads to acknowledge our departure.
“Wait, Zoe.” Brian steps out from his office with his laptop tucked under his arm. “I found more information on Satan’s Son, the gang Jose was in. I forwarded it you.”
“Thank you, Brian,” I say. “Not just for helping me with the case, but for letting us take a week off.”
“You’re not taking it off,” he says. “You’re working. I want that article.”
“Aye, aye.” I give him a captain’s salute.
“Come on, Zoe,” Mike says impatiently. “We have to hurry if we’re going to catch our flight.”
We have five hours until our plane leaves, but whatever.
“I’ll see you in a week,” I say to Brian.
“Looking forward to it.”
We lapse in silence until Mike grabs my hand. “Time to go. See you all later.”
And we’re out the door. I’m a bundle of nerves and excitement. Not only am I going on a plane for the first time in my entire life, but also because Mike made us reservations at a fancy restaurant that serves caviar. I can’t wait to cross that off my bucket list.
Outside, there’s a slight breeze that feels glorious. I’m high as kite, pumped full of anticipation. I am so excited to finally leave Fernn Valley and spread my wings.
Willie would be so proud of me right now.
Speaking of grumpy spirits, Jose is in the back seat of my car with his hands clasped over his abdomen. He desperately misses napping, and eating, and being a cat.
He’s scoured Fernn Valley over the last month, searching for a deceased cat to take up residence in, which is an odd thing to think about, but there it is. He’s had no luck, and I suspect, even if he won’t admit it or think it, that he is ready to transition to the next phase.
I open the passenger door and push the seat forward. “It’s time to go,” I say to Jose.
“Meh.”
“Come on.” I grab my brand-new suitcase from the trunk and kick it onto the back wheels. “Let’s go.”
Jose reluctantly exits the car and shuffles over to Mike’s Jeep, which is parked under a tree across the parking lot. We decided to leave my car at work, and Mike’s car at the airport. My dad had offered to drive us, but then they went into escrow last week on Willie’s home, and the final inspection was scheduled for today.
