The First Ghost
Page 5
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” I did a happy dance around the room looking for something to write with. “He called. He called. He really called.”
Billy thought dancing was a fine idea and pranced around under my feet, doing his best to trip me. He wheezed and snuffled in his excitement. He started to run a circle around the table, then paused and cocked his head to look at the card players.
“Do you see them, too?” I asked.
“Well, isn’t this cozy?” Corinne hovered over the table, arms crossed. She didn’t seem to notice the man choking his fellow player right under her. Hephzibah was right. Others didn’t see what I did. I envied them. “Looks like someone had a good day.”
“Actually my day sucked,” I said with a grin. “I got fired, your little pooch here has trashed my bathroom, and by now I’m sure the neighbors have figured out I’m hiding a dog.”
Corinne made a sound like sucking air. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to get you canned. Why the dance of joy then?”
“Because the hottest doctor in the whole world called me,” I said smugly. “Okay, the hottest doctor at Our Lady, anyway. But still, dance of joy worthy.”
“A guy? Good for you.”
The pouting was getting old. Granted, there would be no more hot dates for Corinne. That part of her life was done, but she needed to get over it. “Yes, good for me. In case you’ve been too preoccupied to notice, the last couple of days have been pretty shitty for me. I hurt my head. I lost my job. And I see dead people. In fact, I seem to have acquired a dead roommate. Oh, and a dog who’s bent on destroying my bathroom. It’s about time something good happened.”
“He looks hungry,” she said. “Have you fed him?”
I blinked. “No. What does he eat?”
“Dog food, of course. Tell me you at least put down a bowl of water.” She looked around. “Don’t you know anything about animals?”
“When I woke up this morning, I wasn’t expecting to acquire a dog. I’ll get him some food. There’s one of those big chains around the corner from the Laundromat. I see people taking their dogs in there. Billy can go, too.”
“Never. It’s much too cold for him. Isn’t it, puppy boy?”
“Hey, if I’m going out in it, he can, too.”
“You’re wearing a coat.”
“So is he. It’s not too far, and he can poop on the way. He has to poop and pee, right?”
“I’ll go, too.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Corinne. It isn’t safe out there for you.”
“Not safe?” Her eyes narrowed. “I’m already dead. What else could happen?”
I wasn’t sure how much to say, so I settled for, “I saw some weird things today.” Like soul-eating demons. “I think you should stay here where it’s warm and comfortable.”
“Like I care about that. Remember the part about being dead? I’m coming with you. You can’t stop me.”
She had me there, and she knew it. She could follow me all over the world and yap in my ear until I went crazy. “Promise me that if I tell you to run, you’ll do it.”
* * * *
The second Billy saw the leash come out, he raced in circles, making little snork-snork noises.
I poked my head out first to make sure the coast was clear. The rain had eased up, but the sidewalks were still slick. Canterbury Park is a little more pedestrian-friendly than Dallas, and there was a fair amount of foot traffic for the wretched weather. Folks darted in and out of the shopping along the trendy square filled with boutiques and niche markets. I passed the square by and continued on to the less trendy, but heavily trafficked chain stores. They weren’t pretty, but they had what I needed.
Along the way I stayed on alert for potential demons or other nasties, but I didn’t see anything scarier than the guy in a dirty down jacket arguing loudly with himself as he jaywalked through traffic.
Deftly dodging the spray from vehicles swooshing through puddles, we arrived at Petland only moderately cold and wet. Billy immediately remedied his wetness with a thorough shaking, managing to do to me what the traffic hadn’t.
“Gee thanks,” I muttered, brushing at the muddy slush on my clothes. He took the time to shake each paw and lick his balls before agreeing to accompany me through the store.
He pin-balled down the aisles, snuffling with pleasure, hiked a leg and watered a sack of cat food. A hasty look around assured me that this had gone unnoticed.
Who knew there were so many types of dog food? Three aisles? Were they kidding?
“He likes this one.” Corinne floated near the sacks. “He likes the chicken flavor. And this gravy over the top. It has vitamins for a shiny coat.”
I checked the prices. “No freaking way.”
“Can I help you?” A woman in a blue smock with handy pockets for treats stood at the ready. “What’s your baby’s name?” She bent over to Billy, who flopped over exposing his belly. She rubbed it as he snork-snorked appreciatively.
“His name is Billy. I’m looking for dog food,” I said. Duh. “I don’t know what kind to get.”
“I just told you,” Corinne said.
I ignored her. “I adopted him today, and I’ve never had a dog before.”
I obviously said the magic words, because the clerk lit up like a kid at Christmas. “Oh, how wonderful! That is wonderful. Good for you. You saved a life today.” She beamed at me. “Now this is what the vet recommends.” She pointed to the same pricey bags Corinne had tried to steer me toward.
“Hah!” Corinne said.
“Why is it so expensive?”
“It’s very balanced nutrition.”
“What’s wrong with this kind?” I pointed to a yellow bag. “I see them on TV.”
The clerk gave me a pitying look. “Nothing wrong with it, if you don’t mind feeding your dog corn and fillers.”
“Corn is bad?”
“It’s a common allergen. It adds bulk to the food, but it isn’t digestible. So you know what that means.” She looked meaningfully at Billy’s rear. “What goes in must come out.”
“Gotcha. So this expensive stuff makes less poop.”
“Exactly.” She gave me a huge smile. She had me, and she knew it. I looked at the prices and shook my head again. For that price, Billy had better shit gold bricks.
I had thought I would buy a little sack of food for a few days and maybe a water dish, because he wasn’t drinking out of my good china. Turns out, my arms couldn’t carry everything I ended up with. Billy needed food and the gravy for his coat—if the food was so balanced, why did he need supplements—a dog bed that was guaranteed to be rip-tear proof, chewy treats and toys to keep him from destroying my apartment, pooper-scooper supplies. Ugh.
I balked when it came to buying animal parts for him to gnaw on. I said no to pig’s ears and cow hooves. Billy was thrilled with the bins of bones and bits. His smashed-up little nose was going crazy whuffling and snorking.
“What’s that?” I pointed to a long, slender thing that looked an oddly shaped rawhide chew. “A bull stick?”
Andrea blushed and whispered in my ear.
“Ew! Who buys things like that?” Dog lovers had a lot to answer for in my book.
I left with my arms laden with packages and my bank account considerably lighter.
Corinne was insufferable all the way home. Where’s a demon when you need one?
Chapter 5
I woke the next morning with two thoughts. First: I had no place to go. No one was expecting me to show up anywhere. I could lie in bed all day long and no one would care or would even miss me, which was both liberating and depressing. Second: The whining at the door was a dog, and if I didn’t take him outside immediately, he would do something vile to my carpet, assuming he hadn’t already.
So much for lying in bed. I pulled on some ugly sweats, jammed a wooly striped hat on my head and grabbed a leash. Billy danced at the door, snuffling with either joy or desperation. It all looks the same on a pug.
I panicked and dragged him over to the row of scraggly evergreens that passes for landscaping. I should have scooped the poop and taken the evidence away, but I’d left the supplies inside, and quite frankly the prospect was too horrible to face first thing in the morning.
I glanced at the steaming pile. There were little bits of blue in it that resembled the color of my towels. I thought I had left a washcloth in the bathroom yesterday.
This was the dog that needed forty-dollar dog food? So far he had eaten toilet paper, a pillow and a washcloth with no evidence of gastric upset.
“Keep this up and you’re getting the crap with corn in it.” We beat a hasty retreat inside before anyone saw us.
I put the kettle on. Corinne had yet to make an appearance. She was staying away longer and longer. I had no idea where she went, but I was determined to get her crossed over, find a job and a new home for Billy and bag myself a doctor. Hopefully today. It’s good to have ambition.
But in order to call Aunt Susie, I needed Corinne. The card players had vanished during the night, and I could once more enjoy my kitchen table. I warmed my hands, wishing the sun would come out and bathe the room in golden light. Billy seemed impervious to the gloom and happily polished off his balanced meal. Then he entertained himself by savaging a terry-cloth wiener dog Corinne had insisted I buy for him. At least he was enjoying it.
I hate waiting. “Corinne?” I said sharply. “Where the hell are you?”
“Where do you think I am?”
She floated over my head. “Come down where I can see you without breaking my neck, please. We need to talk.” She drifted down, wafting from side to side like a feather settling. She seemed more ephemeral every time I saw her. “Do you still want me to call your Aunt Susie?”
“Yes, please. I need to know that she’s going to be okay.”
That actually sounded reasonable. “So when is a good time?”
Corinne glanced at the faux antique clock on my mantel. “She’s at work right now.”
“That might not be the best place. How about tonight? Will she be home?”
“How should I know?”
Corinne wasn’t going to make this easy. “Does she do anything on Thursday nights? Bowling league? Ladies’ Auxiliary? Gun club?”
“Of course not. She goes to bed pretty early.”
“Okay, then. Tonight, say six or seven o’clock, we’ll give Aunt Susie a call. Then you can cross over in peace.”
“Tonight?”
“Tonight,” I said firmly. “You promised. Billy is taken care of, and after Aunt Susie there’s no reason to hang around here anymore.”
Corinne’s lower lip trembled. Hephzibah had been right. Here it came. She was going to ask me to solve her murder.
“What’s going to happen to me?”
“I don’t know. I’m sure it’s something good. You seem like a good person.”
“Do you believe in heaven?”
“I guess so. I never looked at it that carefully.” In fact, I had spent my entire life running from the issue. I was afraid to look. You would think with a family in the death business I would be at peace with the issue of dying, but I wasn’t. Oh, I knew there was something more. I had always known there was more, but once people crossed over, I really had no idea. “My mother thinks so, and she’s been clairvoyant her whole life, so she should know.”
Corinne nodded. “I always went to church and I was pretty sure until...well...I’m sort of nervous.”
Where was Hephzibah now? I had no idea how to deal with these issues. This was why I hated working in the funeral home. “Perfectly understandable,” I said. “But I think it’s time to find out. Tonight.”
Corinne nodded. I could tell she was crying even though no tears streamed down her cheeks and she didn’t make a sound. “It’s just...never mind,” she mumbled.
“Tell me.”
“Somebody killed me. And now he’s going to get away with it.” Her shoulders shook, and she ducked her head, letting her honey-colored hair hide her face.
No, no, no. Not this conversation. “Do you have any idea who killed you?”
The hair curtain swayed as she shook her head. “I don’t know who. I don’t even know why.”
“Maybe it wasn’t murder. Maybe it was an accident.” I couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to kill Corinne.
“That isn’t possible.”
“Maybe the police have solved it.”
She lifted her head. “Could you find out? Please? That would mean a lot. I don’t want him to get away with it.”
Against my better judgment I said, “I’ll see what I can do.”
What else could I say?
* * * *
The day stretched ahead of me, long and empty. I had made a promise to Corinne, and I really had no idea how to fulfill it. I had made promises to myself, but the prospect of job-hunting filled me with terror. I’d rather face another demon.
So I did the only thing I could think of. I called Harry.
An hour later, Harry picked me up in a blue Mahaffey-Ringold van. I hoped it didn’t have a body in it. The big hearses are mostly for funerals. The van does the bulk of pickup and delivery.
He frowned when I climbed in. “Did you have to bring the dog?”
“I didn’t want to leave him alone all day.” I was afraid of further damage to my bathroom door or unabashed howling.
“You’ve gotten weird on me. Don’t you think it’s time you got another car?” He shifted gears.
“That might be hard.”
“Oh?” He stomped on the accelerator with such ferocity I had to close my eyes. If Harry on the freeway was a scary prospect, Harry dodging pedestrians and city traffic was truly a near-death experience.
I gave him the CliffsNotes version of losing my job. He made appropriate brotherly noises and then asked the dreaded question. “Is that why you wanted me to pick you up? You’re coming back to work for Mother and Walter?”
“No, absolutely not.” I was so horrified I made the mistake of opening my eyes. A large semi bore down on us at a terrifying speed. Harry wrenched the van back onto our side of the street just in time. The truck driver laid on his horn indignantly. Harry beeped back at him and careened around a corner.
I had one arm holding Billy in my lap and another gripping the armrest. Billy stood with his front paws on the dash, snorking happily.
“I need to talk some things over with Mother. Mother-daughter stuff.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Drop you off and disappear. Don’t worry. I need to take Mrs. Hazelthorne to the crematorium anyway.” He jerked his chin toward the back of the van.
* * * *
Harry let me off at the side door and peeled out as though it was a dire emergency to deliver Mrs. Hazelthorne within the next thirty seconds. Good thing most of Harry’s passengers were already dead.
The bell tinkled as I went in the employee entrance. Mother was entertaining a “client” in her office.
“Oh hello, dear,” she said. “Mrs. Hazelthorne, this is my daughter, Portia.”
Mrs. Hazelthorne was plump, but in a shapely way, with gray hair fluffed about her head like a huge cotton ball. “Two of you? Dear me, this is my lucky day. So very nice to meet you, Portia.”
Mrs. Hazelthorne sat in a chair poring over the pages that Mother turned for her. She didn’t appear to have mastered the art of floating yet.
“Mrs. Hazelthorne is newly deceased,” Mother offered. “We’re finalizing her funeral plan before her husband arrives.”
“Definitely the pewter urn,” Mrs. Hazelthorne said. “The living room is very nautical, and pewter would fit right in with all the blue tones.”
“Now about the hymns,” Mother said.
“Let
me see.” Mrs. Hazelthorne tapped her chin. “I always liked Jesus, Savior, Pilot Me, and Rescue the Perishing. Those would be nice, don’t you think?”
“Oh yes,” Mother said. “I’ve always been partial to Fanny Crosby. May I suggest Blessed Assurance?”
“That sounds nice. What do you think?” Mrs. Hazelthorne looked brightly at me. “What a cute little doggy,” she exclaimed, spying Billy for the first time. The pug was sitting there with his head cocked and a bemused expression on his face.
Mother’s mouth hung open. “You did get a dog. I thought Harry was making it up.”
“I’ll explain later,” I said. The front doorbell tinkled.
Mother stood. “That will be Mr. Hazelthorne.”
“I’ll get him,” I offered. I unclipped Billy’s leash and he trotted at my heels. I hoped he didn’t think he was my dog now. He’d probably transfer his loyalty to anyone who fed him.
Mr. Hazelthorne was a phlegmatic, red-eyed man. He had obviously been crying, but was otherwise stoic. I introduced myself and took him back to see Mother.
“Nice dog,” he said. “Betty Lou always fancied little dogs.”
I assumed Betty Lou was Mrs. Hazelthorne. When she saw her red-eyed husband, she grew weepy herself. I had to leave the room. I’m so not cut out for this kind of work. I wandered off to the chapel where services are sometimes held.
The chapel is very traditional, bordering on old-fashioned. It’s what people expect. Burgundy carpeting and dark wood. Seating on both sides with a wide center aisle. The benches look like standard pews, but the pieces come apart. The size can be adjusted. It’s supposed to be easy, and taking the things apart really is, but Harry and Walter need about an hour with a rubber mallet to put them back together. Up front is a platform with machinery hidden by drapery. Coffins come in on rollers and then are raised into position. The sound system is new, too. Mother sank a bunch of money into the place before the economy tanked. Now everyone wanted funerals on the cheap. She swore they were doing okay, but I worried.