by Morgana Best
Was that even possible? I had no idea, and it was hardly something I could google. Basil and I were the only ones I was aware of who could speak to ghosts. Even Ernie, a ghost himself, had no experience in this.
What if Jezza-Belle possessed my mother forever?
And would that be a bad thing?
Chapter 4
I found a parking spot easily enough outside the hospital, despite the fact that renovations were happening at the closest wing.
It was a dull yet imposing brick building, made decades ago from the blue brick that abounded in the area. I made my way to the reception area, doing my best not to inhale the faint smell of hospital disinfectant, and enquired after my mother.
The efficient nurse checked her computer, and then made a call before answering. “They’re assigning your mother a room now. You can see her once she’s in the room.”
“Can’t I see her now?” I asked.
The nurse shook her head, and indicated a row of grey plastic seats against the bland, pale green wall behind me. “Take a seat, and the doctor will speak to you presently.”
After half an hour, I was beginning to wonder about the nurse’s definition of presently. I stood up, intending to ask her again, when a woman in a white coat briefly spoke to the nurse and then walked over to me. “Thelma Bay?”
I nodded.
“I’m Dr Stephenson.”
“Is my mother all right?”
The doctor’s eyes flickered for a moment, and then she said, “I’d like to keep her in overnight for observation. Is your mother on any medication?”
“Not as far as I know,” I said. “When I leave here, I can go to her house and look in her cupboards if you think I should.”
“Yes, please do, and give me a call if you find anything,” she said. “We’re not sure if your mother has concussion or not, but she said some rather strange things. Also, she doesn’t know how old she is or what her name is. That’s a cause for concern.”
I nodded. “Can I see her now?”
“Sure. She’s in Wing Five, Room 565.”
I thanked the doctor, and followed the signs to Wing Five. Ernie materialised beside me, making me jump.
“I don’t know why I always scare you, Laurel,” he said. “You should be used to me appearing by now.”
I shrugged off his words. “Did you hear what the doctor said?”
“Yes I did, but I thought she might commit you, too, if I suddenly appeared and you took fright.”
“Thanks,” I said dryly. “I really need to talk to Jezza-Belle, or they’ll keep my mother here forever.”
Ernie stopped in front of me. “That sounds like a good idea to me.”
I was puzzled. “What is?”
“The hospital keeping your mother here forever. You know, she’s much more fun when she’s possessed by Jezza-Belle.”
I laughed, but then a nurse came through one of the doors, so I kept walking. “You’re right,” I said in a whisper when I thought no one could hear me.
Mum had a private room with a view over the concrete parking area. I suppose it could have been worse. “How are you feeling, Mum?” I asked her.
Mum was sitting up in bed, looking quite put out. “I don’t know how to break it to you, but I’m not your mother.”
“I know,” I said. “I’m Laurel, and this is Ernie.”
“I’d shake your hand, but it would pass right through you,” Ernie said.
Mum/Jezza-Belle looked shocked. “You can see him?”
I nodded. “Yes, I can see ghosts. Why did you possess my mother?”
“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Jezza-Belle said, but then added, “She was such a mean old cow, insulting me and insulting my friends.”
“So what, you decided to possess her to get revenge?” Ernie said. “And don’t take it personally; she’s like that to everyone.”
“I actually didn’t intend to possess her,” Jezza-Belle said. “I got so angry. I got so angry that I didn’t know what to do, and all my anger focused on her. The next thing I knew, I had possessed her.”
“So why didn’t you unpossess her after you realised?” I asked her.
“I think the word should be dispossessed,” Ernie said thoughtfully.
Jezza-Belle shrugged. “I wasn’t even sure how I did it, but I thought it would be a good idea to keep possessing her, because then I would be able to find out who killed me.”
I thought about it for a moment. “Yes, that makes sense. When you find out who murdered you, then you can cross over, and you’ll stop possessing my mother at that point.”
Ernie nodded in agreement. “If you don’t want Jezza-Belle to stay in your mother forever, then you’ll have to help her find out who murdered her. Think carefully before you decide, Laurel. Remember what your mother’s like!”
I had to admit he had a point, but I really couldn’t in all good conscience leave Jezza-Belle possessing my mother forever. “The police will surely solve your murder soon.”
Jezza-Belle propped herself up further in the hospital bed and rearranged her pillows. “I have no confidence in the police. I have inside information they don’t have.”
“Like what?” I asked her.
“I don’t mean anything specific as such,” she said, “but I know the suspects better than the police do. Laurel, will you investigate my murder?”
I was still confident the detectives would solve it, but I had no choice but to agree. “Sure. I’ll make notes.”
Jezza-Belle held up a hand. “First of all, tell me your mother’s name, date of birth, and address, and anything else pertinent you can think of. If I don’t tell them all that the next time they ask me, they might put me in a psychiatric ward.”
Ernie nodded. “Good idea.”
I gave Jezza-Belle the information, and then drilled her a few times. “That’s good,” I said. “Should I write it down somewhere, so you can remember?”
Jezza-Belle shook her head. “There’s nothing to write on here, and even if I did make notes, it wouldn’t look good for me if one of the nurses found it.”
I agreed. “Okay then, let’s get to the matter of your murder, if it won’t upset you?”
She shook her head. “It’s a bit too late for that.”
“What do you remember?”
Jezza-Belle didn’t have a chance to answer, because Pastor Green hurried into the room. He walked over to sit on the bed, and patted Jezza-Belle’s hand. “Thelma, my dear, you gave us all a fright.”
“Act very religious,” Ernie said urgently. “Thelma’s very religious. You don’t want the pastor to think you’re nuts and tell the doctor.”
Jezza-Belle did what I assume was an imitation of looking pious and crossed herself. “I’ll say three Hail Marys for giving you a fright, Father,” she said in a monotone.
I forced a laugh. “Ha ha, Mum, stop teasing Pastor Green. You know he’s not Catholic.”
Jezza-Belle looked surprised. “Isn’t everyone Catholic? I thought God was Catholic.”
Pastor Green turned to me, worry etched all over his face. “Oh dear, Laurel. Her mind is still affected. Should I go fetch the doctor?”
“No, no!” I said. “She remembers her name and address, even her age now. She’s improving. The doctor said she needs a lot of rest.”
Pastor Green took the hint, and stood up. “Call me if you need anything, Laurel.”
Before I could say anything, Jezza-Belle spoke. “Are you married? I mean, all my memories came back, but I can’t remember if you’re married.”
Pastor Green’s eyes widened. “No.”
Jezza-Belle smiled, looking like a spider about to jump on its prey. “You’re quite cute, aren’t you!”
I took the pastor by the elbow and led him from the room. “I’m sure she’ll be all right by morning,” I said in the most convincing tone I could muster. When I was back in the room, I addressed Jezza-Belle. “You have to be more careful, Jezza-Belle. My mother would never
flirt with anyone.” Jezza-Belle looked like she couldn’t care less, so I added, “Now where were we?”
“You asked her if she remembered anything about being murdered,” Ernie supplied.
Jezza-Belle chewed one of Mum’s fingernails. “Lotti, Delilah, and I were out clubbing. I felt sick, so one of them suggested I get some air.”
I interrupted her. “Which one suggested that?”
Jezza-Belle shrugged. “Can’t remember.”
“Did they suggest you go into the alley behind the club?” I pressed her.
She shook her head again. “Not sure. I don’t think so. Maybe.”
“Were you drinking a lot?” Ernie asked her.
Jezza-Belle bit her lip and thought for a while before answering. “No more than usual, and it’s never made me sick before.”
“Was your boyfriend there, too?” I asked.
“No, it was a girls’ night out. Besides, it would be too awkward, because Lotti used to date him.”
“Okay, tell me everything you can remember,” I said.
Jezza-Belle put her head in her hands. “It was horrible. I was in the alleyway and a car came straight at me. It all seemed to happen in slow motion, like a dream. I couldn’t move my muscles—they were like jelly. It hit me, and then I remember it kept reversing over me.”
Ernie shuddered. “Ouch.”
“I think I was already in ghost form halfway through it, so it didn’t hurt,” Jezza-Belle said. “And then someone got out of the car and looked at me and then drove off really fast.”
“Do you remember if it was a male or a female?” I asked her.
“No idea, and before you ask me, I don’t even know what colour the car was or what sort of car.”
“That’s not a lot to go on,” Ernie said.
I shot him a look of agreement and then turned back to Jezza-Belle. “Can you think of anyone with a reason to kill you?” Before she could respond, I added, “You said you had inside information.”
“Lotti probably thinks I stole Harper from her, because I did. She resents me for that, maybe as I stole her last few boyfriends. We have, like, a contest, you see.” I didn’t really see, but I nodded anyway. Jezza-Belle was still talking. “Anyway, I’m sure she didn’t want me dead. And there’s my boyfriend, I didn’t quite trust him. He has a gambling problem, so he borrowed a lot of money from me. I mean a lot. I was pressuring him to start paying it back, and he didn’t like that.”
“They’re both motives, I suppose,” Ernie said, “but surely it had to be someone with a stronger motive than that.”
“I was getting to that,” Jezza-Belle said, pursing her lips. “I’m a website designer, and some of my clients might want me out of the way.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Because you designed their websites badly?”
Jezza-Belle made a rude snorting sound. “Of course not! I’m a hacker. I mean, I was a hacker. Sure, I was a website designer, but I was also a hacker. Several people paid me to do work for them. There was Phil Palmer, who paid me to falsify hospital records.” She tapped her chin. “There was a woman, Daisy Fairchild, who wanted me to transfer money from her husband’s bank account into hers. There were other clients, too, but those were the most recent ones.”
I looked up from making notes on my phone. “Was much money involved?”
Jezza-Belle nodded. “It was seven hundred and fifty thousand from Daisy’s husband’s bank account, and then her husband found out and wanted to pay me more to transfer it back.”
“And did you?” Ernie and I said in unison.
Jezza-Belle said a few rude words. “Of course not. I do have professional standards. If word got out that I double-crossed a client, I wouldn’t get any more clients. Oh, I forgot to mention that Delilah didn’t want me in the band. She said I was too wild. Delilah always said that punk rock was a voice for feminism, that it was about so much more than music. She said it was radical. In fact, she said a lot of stuff, and she always said that I only cared about the music.”
“Hang on a minute,” I said. “Back to the matter of this Daisy woman. Why didn’t her husband simply go to the police?”
“There was no proof, of course. Daisy was a trophy wife, a good twenty years younger than her husband. He used to transfer large amounts—granted, not that large—into her account, but now he has a mistress, and he’s been transferring small amounts into her account. He used to give Daisy expensive gifts, so it would simply look to the police like he was guilty and putting money into her account.”
That sounded strange to me. “But surely they’d have a prenup?”
“Yes, and that was the problem. Daisy stands to get a lot of money if they divorce. I explained that to him, and said he should just let the money go. Anyway, he got really angry and threatened me.”
“What’s his name?”
“Donnie Fairchild.”
I typed his name into my phone notes. “Okay then, back to Delilah. You said she wanted you to leave the band.” Jezza-Belle nodded. “Enough to kill you?” I asked.
Jezza-Belle shrugged. “I would have said no, but then again, I’m dead. Somebody did it.”
Chapter 5
The following morning, I was sitting in my office, staring out the window at Basil’s two pet sheep, Arthur and Martha. Basil had to go to Tamworth for business the previous night.
I was looking forward to some quiet time to myself to get on top of the mounting pile of paperwork before dealing with Jezza-Belle’s murder, and with the fact that she had possessed my mother.
The alarm at the front door sounded. I sighed and got to my feet. I wasn’t expecting anyone. I walked out in the foyer, and to my dismay, I saw Ian and Mum’s snooty friends.
“We’re here to see how Thelma is,” Ian said. “We knocked on her door but there was no answer.” The others simply looked at me with disgust.
“I think they’re releasing her from the hospital soon,” I said to Ian, but he shook his head.
“No, I called, and they said she was released first thing this morning.”
For some reason, a cold chill covered my whole body, as goosebumps broke out all over me. Why did I have a sudden premonition?
I didn’t have to wait long for the answer. Jezza-Belle, in Mum’s body, burst through the door. Even I didn’t recognise her for a moment. She had shaved off her eyebrows and had drawn them in black lines at a strange angle. Her lipstick was bright red and her sunglasses huge and dark. I have no idea why I noticed that first, because she had shaved the sides of her head, and must have used a lot of product because the remaining hair of her new mohawk hairdo—did I mention it was fire engine red?—pointed skyward in a bizarre wedge-like design.
There was a loud thud behind me. I looked around to see that Ian had fainted.
Mum’s friends ignored him, and stood there staring at Jezza-Belle, their jaws hanging open in shock. I walked over to Ian and patted his face. “Ian!” There was no response, so I went to my office to fetch a bottle of water. This was a nightmare, an absolute nightmare. Why would Jezza-Belle do such a thing? I had promised to help solve her murder. I could only assume it was payback for the horrible things Mum had said about her and her band.
When I returned, Ian was still out cold, so I poured a little water on his face. He rallied and sat up, but clutched both his cheeks when he saw Jezza-Belle again. “Come and sit in the chapel,” I said.
Jezza-Belle bounced over to him. “Come on, Ian. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
The whole time, Mum’s friends remained speechless. Jezza-Belle and I took Ian into the chapel and sat him on the closest chair. “You have a lot of explaining to do,” I whispered to Jezza-Belle.
One of Mum’s friends finally spoke. “Whatever’s got into you, Thelma? Clearly, you’re having some sort of mental breakdown.”
Jezza-Belle flung her arms skyward. “I’m free! I’m free from the oppression of religion.”
Mum’s friends gasped and clutched each other. Mar
tha recovered first. She marched over to Jezza-Belle and shook her finger in her face. “I don’t know if this is some sort of middle age crisis, but it is of the devil! Get a grip on yourself, Thelma, and stop acting like a bratty teenager. You should be ashamed of yourself!”
“Don’t speak to me like that, you old hag,” Jezza-Belle said angrily. “You’re dried up old prunes, all of you. You’re just jealous because I’m attractive and you’re not.”
“Jezza-Belle!” I exclaimed in shock, and then added hastily, “Mum!”
“You got it right the first time, Laurel,” Francine said. “Your mother needs deliverance from a Jezebel spirit. Come on, ladies, let’s all deliver her from this Jezebel spirit.”
Jezza-Belle backed away from them. “Don’t touch me! Deliver this!” With that, she began giving Ian a lap dance.
He passed out once more, but that didn’t stop Jezza-Belle. She gyrated rather too close to Ian, leaving Mum’s three friends horror-stricken. After I averted my eyes at her choice of underwear, I took her arm and did my best to pull her off him. “Jezza-Belle, this wasn’t our deal.”
Martha came up behind me. “I misjudged you, Laurel,” she said. “I didn’t know you attended another church. A shame your mother never informed us. You clearly recognise that your poor mother needs deliverance from a very strong Jezebel spirit.”
Francis readily agreed. “A strongman spirit,” she said. “It’s the head Jezebel spirit, and there are many other spirits attached to it.”
Doris nodded vigorously. “Yes, there’s the demon of exhibitionism, the demon of bad temper, the demon of bad dress sense, the demon of mutton dressed as lamb…” She droned on and on, naming all sorts of demons, leaving me to wonder whether she had a good sense of humour or whether she was in fact serious. After a while, I realised it was the latter.
Averting their eyes from Jezza-Belle who was still giving Ian a lap dance, the three ladies formed a huddle. “I wonder what let it in?” Martha said.
