Nearly Departed

by Max Patrick Schlienger

  Wednesday began badly. Recalling the past evening’s fight with Alena had left Dennis feeling irritable and anxious. If that hadn’t been enough, the morning had brought with it the realization that he had accidentally left his car’s headlights on the night before, and had managed to drain his car’s battery to the point where turning the key rewarded him with little more than a pathetic whimper from the motor. Finally, as an added punch line to his already aggravating day, he wound up discovering that he had put his shirt on inside-out.

  “No, really, I think it makes an impressive fashion statement,” Bobo stated, doing little to hide his wide grin. Dennis struggled to right the orientation of his clothing, cursing the tight fit of his thin turtleneck. “It has a counter-culture sort of vibe to it. The ultimate statement of nonconformity.”

  “Then why did you bother pointing it out?” Dennis grumbled, working his arms through the sleeves. Bobo shrugged and faced forward in his seat, looking up through the windshield.

  “Looks like it might rain.”

  “It already did. I had to pop-start my car in it.”

  Bobo looked back at Dennis. “Really? I thought your hair was just like that.”

  Dennis scowled and made a futile attempt at combing his brown locks into place with his fingers. After the fourth or fifth failed attempt, he finally gave up and started the car. Assuming that they didn’t run into any more delays, the pair should arrive at Elspeth’s house at exactly nine o’clock. From that point on, though, Dennis had little idea about what to expect. Several miles passed and the car remained silent. Finally, Bobo moved as if to say something.

  “This ghost, then,” he began, “she haunts a chair. What else is there to her?”

  “Uh,” Dennis stammered. He glanced in the rearview mirror, wary of the police car which had pulled into the lane behind them. The driver didn’t look like the man from Harding’s office, but he couldn’t be sure. “She looks seventeen, but she’s actually something like sixty-three.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Other than the fact that she haunts a chair, yeah.” Dennis squinted at the reflection of the police car, still trying to make out the features of the person driving it. Bobo watched his face, and faced backwards to look at the car behind them.

  “I take it you have a problem with cops?” Bobo asked.

  “Would you turn around?” hissed Dennis. “No, I don’t usually have problems with cops, but a friend of mine might have dragged me into one of his.”

  Bobo nodded, and didn’t ask for any further details. The car hummed over the Golden Gate Bridge, and Dennis breathed a sigh of relief when the police car sped past them. At some point while they were in a tunnel following the bridge, the overcast sky gave way to a cheerful blue, and Dennis squinted in the sudden rush of light.

  “So, here’s a question,” Bobo said. “Why don’t we just burn the chair?”

  “Burn it?” Dennis repeated.

  Bobo shrugged. “Hack it to bits, then. If this spook is haunting a chair, why don’t we just off the chair?”

  Dennis considered. “Do you think that would work? It seems too… I don’t know, simple, I guess.” He pulled towards the exit that would take them to the house, hoping that he remembered the correct route. “Besides, what if it hurts Evy? I don’t think Elspeth would like that very much.”

  “Evy’s the dead one, yeah?” Bobo asked. Dennis nodded. “I don’t see how you can hurt a ghost, really.”

  “Well, she didn’t like it when I tried to touch her,” replied Dennis. He caught sight of a familiar street and hastily braked to make the turn.

  “We can try talking first,” Bobo said. “Leave the fire as a backup plan.” He scratched at his head, which Dennis still half-expected to be adorned with shoulder-length dreadlocks, rather than shaved to a fine stubble. A few minutes later, the car pulled up in front of the stone walkway leading to Elspeth’s house. Bobo let out a low whistle as he looked at the place, and although Dennis shot him a warning look, he had to agree with the sentiment. The pair climbed from the car, pausing only as Dennis double-checked to make sure his headlights weren’t left on again.

  Bobo whistled again as the pair approached the house. “Are you sure this is the right place?”

  “Yeah, why?” Dennis asked. He tapped the knocker a few times.

  “Well, I mean… Rather posh, isn’t it? Not at all what you’d expect for a ghost house.”

  Dennis treated Bobo to a sidelong glance. “I wasn’t aware that ‘ghost houses’ had any specific look to them.”

  “I suppose they don’t,” Bobo conceded. “Still, though, you wouldn’t think they’d look like this.”

  The door opened a moment later, without so much as a creak, and Elspeth Palin looked up at the two men from within a fuzzy pink bathrobe. A smoldering stub of a cigarette was clenched between her fingers, and she held a small glass ashtray in her opposite palm. Her eyes had the bleary look of someone who had been woken only seconds before, but when she spoke, her voice was alert.

  “Right on time, I see,” Elspeth commented. She examined Bobo with a suspicious gaze. “Who might you be?”

  “Barnaby Owens, ma’am,” Bobo responded. If the man had been wearing a hat, Dennis imagined that he would have politely tipped it. “Most folks call me Bobo.”

  “I see.” Elspeth took a sharp drag from her cigarette and let the smoke drift out from her nostrils. “He’s with you, then, Dennis?”

  Dennis nodded. “Bobo runs a shop that sells things of an occult variety,” he explained, doing his best to sound professional. “He volunteered to lend a hand, and I could hardly turn him down. I hope you don’t mind?”

  “There’s plenty of breakfast,” Elspeth said as a response. She stubbed out the cigarette and beckoned the men to follow her inside. “I don’t imagine Evy will be too polite, though.” She led them through a large kitchen to a circular breakfast nook. The walls around the table were each set with a tall window, providing a view of the expansive backyard behind the house.

  “We could always talk to her one at a time,” Dennis suggested. He was ushered to a chair, and he sat down in front of an impressive array of white plates, each of which was topped with bacon, sausage, slices of white toast, and pieces of fresh fruit. Bobo followed suit, and helped himself to a selection of everything on the table.

  “The eggs will be done in a minute,” Elspeth said. “Just as well, now that I know there are two of you.” She shuffled over to the stove, revealing slippers that matched her robe. “How do you prefer your eggs, Barnaby?”

  “‘Bobo,’ please, ma’am,” he replied politely, albeit through a full mouth. “Never mind about eggs for me.”

  “You’re not eating, Dennis,” Elspeth said without looking over her shoulder.

  “I wanted to ask something, actually,” Dennis responded. “Why wouldn’t your sister be polite if two of us tried to talk to her at once? You were there the last time I tried.”

  Elspeth returned to the table with a pair of smaller places, each bearing a perfectly fried egg. “It’s not a matter of how many people are there,” she said. She placed one plate in front of Dennis, and another at a vacant spot on the table. She continued speaking as she walked back into the kitchen and retrieved two pitchers. “I’m sorry to say, but it’s more because of your skin tone, Barnaby.”

  “It’s ‘Bobo,’ ma’am,” he said again. “Am I too pale, do you think?” He nudged Dennis, who continued eating in silence.

  “Milk or juice?” Elspeth asked. She poured a selection of each into a set of small glasses on the table, and each of the men helped themselves to one. Dennis avoided the milk, but Bobo seemed moved to devour all that he was offered. “Evy hasn’t had much experience with… Dark-skinned folks,” Elspeth explained. It was the first time that Dennis had heard caution creep into her voice. “She’s only ever known one man with skin darker than her own, and he was the house boy for some neighbors back in London.”

  “A slave, you mean,”
said Bobo.

  Elspeth shook her head with an expression of distaste. “A servant. He made small enough wages, but they did pay him.” She served herself from the assembled plates, and took dainty bites from her toast as she spoke. “I had another black man come and see her once, right when she first appeared.” She shook her head disdainfully. “She acted as though he was there to wait on her. He hasn’t spoken with her since.”

  “Why haven’t I heard anything about this?” Dennis murmured absent-mindedly. Both Elspeth and Bobo turned to look at him, but it took several seconds for him to notice their curious expressions. “Sorry,” he stammered. “I was just wondering why this place isn’t more famous.” He looked at both of them, still staring at him in confusion. “I mean, a real ghost? I’m surprised it hasn’t been on one of those reality television shows.”

  “What?” asked Bobo.

  “Oh, you know,” Dennis replied. He made nonsense motions with his hands, as though the meaningless gestures would add something to his explanation. “They go around and they find places that are haunted and they try to catch the ghost on tape.”

  “Then what?” Bobo pressed. Elspeth remained quiet, having shifted her focus back to the consumption of her morning meal.

  “Well, then they usually get scared and run around screaming until a commercial break.” His hands fell back to his lap. “Now that I think about it, they don’t really ever show you the ghost or anything, either.”

  “People like to pretend,” Bobo answered. He pointed at Dennis with a piece of bacon. “You know full well what happens when they find the real thing.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Dennis asked, a trifle irritably.

  Bobo smiled and leaned towards Elspeth. “He was a gibbering mess yesterday, he was. Looked like he’d gone swimming in a cesspool.”

  “Oh, no, it was only water,” Elspeth replied quietly.

  Bobo looked taken aback. “What?”

  “After he fainted,” she continued. “I had to dump two pitchers of water on him.”

  Bobo turned back to Dennis with a giddy laugh. “You fainted, September? Christ, that's a change from bludgeoning a bloke with a statue.”

  Dennis felt the tips of his ears start to burn. “I told you that I passed out, remember?”

  “Must have missed it, with all the bruises you gave me.”

  “Look, I apologized, didn’t I?”

  Bobo titled his head. “No, actually, I don’t think you did.”

  “Well, it’s hard to feel sorry when you keep smiling like that.” Dennis wolfed down the contents of his plate as he struggled to think of a topic change. “Elspeth,” he said, “how many other people have visited Evy?”

  “Quite a number, I should think,” Elspeth replied.

  “Give me an estimate.”

  Elspeth looked up from her plate and gave Dennis a quizzical look. “I haven’t kept a count of them. Twenty or thirty, perhaps? Why?”

  Dennis didn’t reply. A tiny bell had started ringing in his head, but he couldn’t figure out exactly what it meant. “How long have you been doing this?” he asked. “Trying to get rid of Evy, I mean.”

  “Hey now, that’s a bit harsh,” Bobo protested. Elspeth’s gaze landed on him for a moment before going back to Dennis.

  “While I’m sure I don’t know what Barnaby means,” Elspeth said with a hint of a smile, “I’ve been trying since she appeared, so, eight years. Ever since my parents died.”

  “It’s ‘Bobo,’” muttered a sullen voice. Elspeth dabbed at her lips with a napkin, although the act didn’t hide the smile from her eyes.

  “Mind you,” continued Elspeth, “I wasn’t particularly serious about it until the doctors gave me a time limit. Most of that number has been over the past year.”

  Whatever glimmer of intuition had been prodding at Dennis before, it faded away and vanished as he fought to pinpoint it. He scowled to himself, more out of frustration than any sense of ineptitude, and focused an accusing glare on the empty plate in front of him.

  “Well,” he said, putting his hands on the table. “I suppose we should go and have a talk with Evy, then.” Without waiting for an answer, he pushed away from the table and rose. Bobo hurriedly followed, murmuring thanks to Elspeth for the meal as he moved.

  “You go on ahead, Dennis,” Elspeth said. “I’ll take care of the cleanup here. You remember the way?”

  Dennis nodded. “Do you need to introduce me again or anything?” he asked. Bobo raised a curious eyebrow, but remained silent.

  “I’m sure you’ll be fine on your own,” Elspeth replied. Dennis nodded again and marched back towards the foyer with Bobo close behind. Behind them, Elspeth set to gathering up the plates and glasses, causing a melodic clatter of porcelain and glass to follow them through the hall. Once the pair was out of earshot, Bobo put a hand on Dennis’ arm and slowed his pace.

  “Hey,” he said. There was a mixture of worry and confusion in his tone. “What did you mean by that?”

  “Mean by what?” asked Dennis. He retraced the steps he had taken the day before, and soon found the door that would lead to Evy’s room.

  “All that about introducing us,” Bobo said. “What happens if we don’t get introduced?” The obvious nervousness in his voice sent a sympathetic tingle of fear through Dennis’ chest, but he quelled it with a deep breath.

  “Nothing happens,” he explained. “Evy has memory issues. She doesn’t retain anything from day to day.”

  “Oh,” Bobo said. The anxiety in his words had been replaced by mild disappointment. “Well, that’s not very exciting.” He scuffed his shoe on the ground and looked around the hallway. “So, what do we do now?”

  “Now,” said Dennis, grasping the doorknob, “the interview begins.”