by Dima Zales
“Why? Did you just fall into this job, or was it bestowed on you by a higher power?” His tone was teasing, but already I began to feel uncomfortable with where the conversation was heading.
I kept my eyes on the paper and my voice as mild as possible. “We really should get going. I’ve got a long day ahead of me if you’re gonna keep sticking around.”
I stood and drained my mug, tossing it in the sink before heading back to my room. I threw on normal street clothes: purple t-shirt, black jeans, tennis shoes, and my trusty grey duster. The key to my existence was lying low and hoping nobody noticed me whispering to no one they could see. It truly was a wretched sort of life, but I had a price to pay and this was part of it.
When I came back out, Michael was waiting. “You’re very trusting, you know. How do you know I’m not some sort of wandering murderous spirit?”
“Because they don’t live around here. I’ve only seen an evil spirit once.”
Michael’s eyes widened as he walked towards the door with me. “What was that like?”
I opened the door, not meeting his gaze. “Don’t ask. It’ll give you nightmares.”
“I don’t dream.”
“Be grateful for that.”
He shut the door for me, arching an eyebrow. “You’re just a ray of sunshine, huh?”
“I’m glad you finally noticed.” I locked the door and then we started down the hallway. A couple of my neighbors walked up, waving briefly to me and walking straight towards Michael. He had to dodge behind me to keep from bumping one of them.
He shook his head, stuffing both hands in his pockets. “Am I ever gonna get used to this?”
“With any luck, you won’t have to because we’ll find out how you died and you can cross over,” I replied, grabbing the Bluetooth I kept in my duster for this exact purpose and attaching it to my right ear. Otherwise, people saw me talking to myself and would think I was nuts. We made it to the sidewalk now where people were brushing past so Michael fell in line directly behind me to keep from hitting them. I couldn’t feel his presence behind me because he had no body heat. The notion raised the hairs on the nape of my neck. Better not let him know it creeped me out. He might use it against me.
“And then what’ll happen? Who determines whether I go to Heaven or Hell?” Michael asked. We reached my bus stop in a minute or so. Two people sat on the bench while Michael and I stood next to the sign.
I tilted my face towards him out of habit. “Gabriel told me that you go before the Father and Son. They weigh your life based on what you accomplished. It’s not quite as black and white as in the Good Book.”
“That’s a relief. I’m getting the feeling I wasn’t a very good little boy during my life.” His expression relaxed. I made a mental note about his more serious behavior. It could be that he was starting to regain more of his personality traits. That would become helpful later on. Still, I smiled to keep him from worrying about my silence.
“What? Did the skirt flipping tip you off?”
He smirked. “Why? Jealous?”
“You wish.”
“For all you know, I do. Maybe my final wish is to follow you around for all eternity.” He leaned down to my height with a smug look on his face.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “I’ll have you exorcised before I let that happen.”
“Ooh, would you? I wanna see if it actually works.” His voice was genuinely eager. What a weirdo. Luckily, the bus pulled up and I climbed aboard, sliding my bus pass through the slot. It was half past noon, so there were passengers everywhere, forcing me to choose a spot in the very rear. Michael walked on, flopping down next to me in the empty seat.
“I think the best thing about being dead is no longer paying for public transportation.”
“You’re just full of deep thoughts, aren’t you?”
“Yep.”
I sighed. “Focus, please. I need you to watch where the bus route goes and let me know when you recognize something so we can try to find your body.”
“What if we don’t?”
“I check the obituaries. If nothing turns up, I have to file a missing persons report and see if anything matches at the coroner’s.”
The bus lurched forward, its engine coughing to life and making it harder to hear his voice. “How many times have you had to do that before?”
“Not many. I have to be careful that the police don’t get wise to me being involved with so many dead people. They might peg me as a suspicious character.”
Michael peered into my face, making me lean back a bit. He had a strange lack of appreciation for personal space. “You are pretty shifty looking. It’s the bags under your eyes and the fact that you’re about ten pounds underweight.”
I folded my arms underneath my chest, choosing to stare out of the window instead of facing him. “I don’t look that bad.”
“Maybe not. You’re pretty cute for a girl who sees dead people all the time.”
I resisted the urge to squirm in my seat from the compliment. I was wholly unused to them.
“Though I can’t vouch for your fashion sense. What’s with the man-coat?” He tugged at the edge of my sleeve.
I jerked it away reflexively. “Don’t!”
His eyes widened at my reaction. The people in seats in front of me turned to look.
I cleared my throat, reminding myself to calm down. “It’s…important to me.”
Michael studied my neutral expression before nodding. “Got it.”
No joke this time. Maybe he wasn’t as thick as he looked. Ye gods. I started to apologize, but his hand shot out past my face, pointing.
“There! I recognize that club. I woke up down the street from here.”
I tugged on the bus line and we came to a stop nearby. Michael followed me out as I hopped onto the sidewalk and fished for my notepad.
“Let your mind go blank and then just describe whatever comes in it as you look at this place,” I instructed with my pen poised.
Michael let his eyes wander over the building, now mostly empty because it was the middle of the day and most people were at home or at work. “I remember there was music, some kind of emo-kid rock music playing when I woke up. The first thing I noticed was that it looked sort of chilly out here, but I wasn’t cold. I just felt…faint. I felt like myself but somehow a little different.”
He ran his fingertips across the aforementioned park bench, eyes searching the tattered wood for answers. “I got up to ask a girl next to me where I was, but she didn’t answer me. When I touched her, she looked right at me but asked her friend if he was messing with her. That’s when I figured she couldn’t see or hear me. It should have bothered me more when I realized I had died somehow, but instead I just wandered down the street checking for proof. I flipped the girl’s skirt up over there.”
He pointed towards an ice cream shop two stores away with a faint smirk on his lips. “She freaked out. Thought it was the wind. I couldn’t figure out what to do so I just starting walking in that direction.”
Michael turned and walked, making me have to jog to catch up with his long strides. “I walked for most of the night, not knowing why but I knew I had somewhere to be.”
“What happened after that?”
He stopped and I collided with his back. I rubbed the tingling sensation away from my nose, frowning up at him. A few people around me whispered and stared at my strange behavior but I ignored them. Michael hesitated, turning his face until just one side was visible.
“I saw you.”
I stared. “What? When?”
“I think you were walking towards the bus stop that day. Something about you caught my attention. I don’t know why, but I felt like I had to be near you. Still, I didn’t want to freak you out so I made sure you didn’t see me when you got on the bus, stayed in the background during the ride, got off one stop after yours. I crept into your apartment through the window and hid in the closet. After you went to bed, I had a look around to see if
there was any reason I felt drawn to you. Nothing really came of it but I had nowhere else to go so I stuck around. The next morning when I poured your coffee, you seemed to notice but like most people, you sort of brushed it off. When you left for work, I trailed you for a while but then I realized just how insane my stalking had gotten and went to the park. That’s when I figured out you could see me that time you walked past. I didn’t understand what was going on but I figured you might be able to help me. I followed you back to the apartment. This time, though, there was a blond guy in your kitchen so I stayed away. I figured I’d wait it out until you got back from work the next night. That’s why I was outside your apartment when we officially met.”
Michael turned around, looking sheepish. I mouthed uselessly for a moment, trying to figure just what to tell him. “That is the creepiest goddamn thing that has ever happened to me.”
He tilted his head, making an apologetic face. “Yeah, sorry about that. I had hoped you might find it romantic or something, but that was sort of a long-shot.”
“Who am I, Bella Swan? That makes me never want to sleep ever again! Thanks, you creeper.” I resisted the strong urge to shudder at the thought of him sneaking around my apartment while I slept. Good thing I didn’t have a rocking chair or that would just be the end of my ability to relax at home.
He winced a bit. “Alright, I deserve that. What’s your conclusion?”
I sighed, flipping through what I had written down. “Unfortunately, nothing you’ve told me suggests the nature of how you died. We’re gonna have to check the obits. Come on.”
Around the corner from the club, I discovered a newsstand and bought the available newspapers. Tossing the other parts of them aside, I found the proper section and began browsing through names and photos.
Michael hovered over my shoulder, bouncing on his heels with anxiety. “Anything?”
“I found one. I’ll write it down and Google it later.” I scribbled down a man named Michael who didn’t have an accompanying picture. As I folded up the paper, he tucked his hands into his pockets once more.
“So now what?”
“We’ll circle the block a couple of times to see if anything jogs your memory. Until I check this name, there’s nothing more I can do.” I hated the immovable truth in my words. This was the worst part of my “job”—waiting.
Two days left. Any more waiting and I was dead meat. Harrowing thought, really.
The poltergeist fell in step beside me, making sure to take in every detail he could about the block. This part of town was nicer than my side with its shiny boutiques, brightly colored neon signs, and clean, well-lit parking garages. The club Michael had woken up in front of, called Devil’s Paradise, was pretty exclusive—they only let the trendiest of the trendy in to observe whatever band would be playing. It had previously occurred to me to ask the people inside if they had seen Michael before, but the success rate without a picture would be pretty low. Better to dig up a photo before banging on doors. It saved time.
“What are the chances that people I know have reported me missing?” Michael asked.
I thought about it. “Depends. If it’s been two days, someone should have notified the authorities. Y’know, assuming you’re a person of good moral character.”
He touched his chest, feigning a wound. “Ouch. You think I’m a drug dealer or something?”
I snorted. “More likely a male prostitute.”
He threw his head back and laughed, nearly making me jump. “That’s rich. If that’s what my life was like, I’m sad I died. I’m sure my clients will miss me.”
“Or at least part of you.” I let my eyes drift downward.
Michael shook his head, smirking. “Careful. You’ll have me blushing soon.”
We turned the corner in a comfortable silence. Not sure how that came about. Could it be that I was getting used to him? I could only hope I wasn’t that desperate for companionship.
We passed a candy shop that made my stomach growl as I caught sight of fresh pralines and caramel apples. I rarely enjoyed sweets since I was on such a limited budget.
Michael noticed my longing gaze and offered a sympathetic look. “I think I’m going to miss getting a sugar rush.”
“It’s overrated. Still, I’d kill for a fresh caramel apple,” I admitted, rubbing my stomach. The bacon and coffee had only gone so far. Real food would be a necessity within the next hour.
“Is your wallet really that tight?”
I resisted the urge to wince. “I’m on my own. The money I get is from the restaurant. Most of that goes towards rent and utilities. I make what I can out of the rest.”
“You work for God. He can’t cut you some slack in the employment department?”
That made me smirk. “You would think so. Anything familiar yet?”
“Nope. Maybe I really was a street…walker…” He stopped and then whirled around.
I stopped dead in my tracks, confused. “What is it?”
His eyes darted through the crowd wildly as if he were searching for someone. “I thought I saw something.”
“Something or someone?”
“Someone. A man. He had dark hair. When I noticed him, something felt weird,” Michael muttered, looking back and forth down the sidewalk.
I threw up my hands. “Feel free to specify at any time.”
“I’m sorry, I just…” Michael shook his head a bit, still frowning. “Forget it. Maybe I’m seeing things.”
He kept walking, careful not to bump into anyone. I couldn’t help but feel worried. I cast my own gaze into the people on either side of me. It was clear to me that this street and whomever that mystery man was had something to do with Michael’s death. Sometimes I had to take a ghost to more than one site to help their memory return but for him, this seemed to be a hot spot. Still, there was an uneasy feeling in my gut that I had never felt before when working on a case.
When I caught up with Michael, he was peering at the sign for a store called Guitar Center with a glazed expression. He didn’t speak, but he stepped up to the glass and watched a brunette with purple bangs shelve different kinds of headphones. I had to step close to hear him whisper, “Chloe.”
“Chloe?”
He blinked a couple times, snapping out of whatever vision he’d just seen. “Yeah. It’s weird. Her face just sort of clicked in my mind. I think I knew her when I was alive.”
“Couldn’t hurt to ask.” The door jingled to indicate my entrance, and I made my way through the aisle to find the girl. She was a little shorter and thicker than me with wide pink lips and too much mascara. Still, she smiled prettily when I walked over and welcomed me to the store.
“Can I help you?”
“Yeah. Is your name Chloe?”
“Mm-hm. What’s up?”
I fought the urge to glance at the poltergeist to my right in confirmation. “I’m Jordan. Do you know someone named Michael? Six foot one, brown hair, green eyes?”
“Yeah, sure. He’s a friend of mine. Does he need something?”
Uh oh. She didn’t know he was dead. This little interview could get real bad real fast. I licked my lips and thought of the least harmful thing to do.
“Would you mind giving me his cell phone number? I have an important call for him.”
“Sure, no problem.” She glanced over her shoulder to make sure her boss wasn’t hovering around before taking out her iPhone and showing me his number. I copied it down on the notepad. It was indeed a local cell phone number, and maybe the first bit of good news for the day.
“Ask her how she knows me,” Michael prodded. Couldn’t blame the guy.
“By the way, how do you know him?”
“Oh, he comes in here all the time to try out the new guitars. He practically lives here. His band plays on weekends over at that club down the way. Sometimes I drop by to see the performance, but he disappeared after the first big concert a couple nights back. He’s always been like that, though. You interested in him
?”
Naturally, my face went hot with a blush. Michael spared me a sly little smile.
I faked a laugh. “No way. He’s dead wrong for me.”
“Oh, real nice. Gimme a second to go make a rim shot on the drum set over there,” Michael grumbled, crossing his arms across his chest.
I bit back a snicker and addressed the girl again. “Thanks for your help. I really appreciate it. I may need some more help from you pinning him down—”
Cue another immature chuckle from the Peanut Gallery. “—would you mind telling me the store hours?”
She gave them to me, no questions asked. Nice girl. I waved and left the store, heading for the nearest quiet spot. There was a clearing across the street with a few tables underneath a group of trees, so we scurried over the crosswalk to take a seat. I dialed Michael’s number, putting it on speakerphone so I could write any new information down. Instead of ringing, the phone belted out lyrics to Oasis’ “Falling Down.” At the very least, the guy had good taste in music.
“You’ve reached the voicemail of Michael O’Brien. If you leave your name and number, I’ll be sure to get back to you if I actually give a shit. Konnichiwa, bitches.” BEEP.
I arched an eyebrow. “So you really were a charmer while you were alive.”
Michael grinned. “Make fun of me all you want, I don’t care.”
“Why?”
“I know my last name now.” For an instant, I didn’t have anything to say in response. The statement was so simple, but he said it with such…happiness. Who would have thought that one little word could make his face glow like that? I masked my surprise by scribbling down what I had heard on the notepad and closing the phone.
“Well, we’ve got a name, a number, and a reference. Maybe today isn’t a total loss.”
He made a scornful noise. “Please, what would you be doing if you weren’t out solving my death?”
“Lying in bed with a cup of coffee and a good book,” I replied with a wistful sigh. He muttered something about being a drama queen under his breath while I stood and stuffed my phone in my pocket.
“Where to next, fearless leader?”
“Home. We’ve done a lot today and your mind needs to reset itself. Come on.” We passed back the way we came but I kept an eye out for any unusual dark-haired men. Y’know, other than the one walking right next to me. Maybe I was just being paranoid again but ever since he mentioned the man, I had felt like someone was watching us. I hoped for once it was just my imagination. If only I could be so lucky.
