Dr. Callahan’s eyes widened. He seemed impressed.
“We met at a bar,” I added. “Long story.”
“Sophie,” Marmaduke pressed. “The occurrence...”
“Marmi, I just accepted this job, and now, as you can see, I have to contend with a ghost that doesn’t seem to like me very much. Can’t it wait?”
Marmaduke spoke out of the corner of his mouth, as if that would really keep the others in the room from hearing him. “Yes, well, waiting would be a problem. See, the bloke prefers the razzers be notified sooner rather than later.”
There was no context for that word. I had to ask. “What’s a razzer?”
“The police, my dear.”
Something about his tone made me nervous about asking the next question. “And who’s the bloke you’re referring to?” I winced, waiting for the answer.
“The dead man in Suite C.”
CHAPTER TWO
APPARENTLY, THE DEAD MAN IN Suite C was now a ghost. In his new spirited form, “the bloke” had conversed with Marmaduke. “He was in that perfectly dreadful state. It is quite a trauma for a new ghost, you know. The disorientation. The discombobulation.” Marmaduke shook his head. “I remember my own transition well. Bloody awful. You know that something is off, you just aren’t sure what. First you are here, then you are there. You think to yourself, ‘Am I down with a bitterly nasty case of the influenza? Am I hallucinating?’”
“Marmi,” I urged him. “The man in Suite C. Can you get back to him?”
“Yes. Well, he appeared out of nowhere in the parking lot while I sat in that infernal box you call an auto car. He wandered aimlessly for a few moments, and realizing he needed some direction, I approached him and said, ‘I hate to be the one to tell you this ol’ chap, but you are quite dead.’ It sounds harsh when I repeat it now, but sometimes you just have to be brutally honest about these things. He didn’t respond immediately, but I felt it my duty as a comrade to see this apparition to some conclusion, whether it was escape into the light or at least awareness of his new state of being, as you will. Eventually, the fellow was able to recognize this building and even indicate a strong pull to Suite C. It was at that point that he truly understood he was dead, could picture his body, and became extremely agitated over its condition and treatment. We ghosts do that, you know. Care deeply about the bodies we left behind. The old boy really did wish that someone would call the authorities and let them know as soon as humanly possible. So his body wouldn’t rot away like an animal carcass on the side of the road. See, the only thing he feels sure about is that he was alone when he expired.”
The story could have been told in less than twenty seconds, but this was my bombastic Marmaduke, after all. He took more time and used more words than necessary, throwing in a touch of dramatic flair for added effect.
I was antsy to get to the bottom line, since obviously I would have to explain something to the police when I called them. “Where is he now?”
“He faded off. He might have passed into the light for all I know.”
Even though I have a ghostly companion, I’m not an expert in all things spirit-related. Not even close. I mostly know what Marmaduke tells me—he says that right after death, if a spirit remains connected to the earthly plane, reality is hazy at first because time doesn’t exist in their new dimension. Basically, the newly dead guy from Suite C was in a woozy state, if he was still around. Kind of like the time in college when I played the Star Wars drinking game using tequila shots. You know the one: throw back a shot every time a character says “Luke.” I’m pretty sure my hazy state the next morning was very close to what a spirit feels like when it disconnects from a body. Minus the cotton mouth. And if that’s the case, I felt really bad for the poor guy.
Dr. Callahan gave Marmaduke a long, hard stare, then posed a logical question. “What if we call the police and it turns out there’s no body? I mean, he could have died weeks ago, right?”
“Are you addressing me, sir?”
“Yes.”
“How should I know? I am merely a messenger. An envoy. A harbinger.”
“You sound more like a thesaurus.”
If Marmaduke had been a peacock, his feathers would have ruffled something fierce. He didn’t respond to the thesaurus remark, probably because he was thrown off guard, but I suspected he was working on a zinger of a retort.
“Do you know how he died?” I asked.
“When my person walked the physical plane, I was a banker, fair Sophie, not Sherlock Holmes.”
I loved Marmi, but his inability to answer a question with a simple “yes” or “no” was irksome.
Meanwhile, I’d been so focused on Marmaduke that I hadn’t noticed that Dr. Callahan’s ghost had vanished. And he wasn’t swatting at the air. I was about to ask him if she’d left or just gone invisible when she reappeared.
“Oh, yippee. It’s Dawn of the Dead joining us again. I am so terribly honored, aren’t you, Sophie?”
“Just checked Suite C,” she sighed, not seeming to be bothered by Marmaduke’s comment.
“And?” I asked.
She pretended to ignore me and spoke only to Dr. Callahan. “Dead guy alright.”
“Her manners leave something to be desired,” Marmi sniffed. “Does she have a name? Something by which we can address her other than ‘Hey you’?”
“This is Moonflower. She came with the office. I think,” Dr. Callahan said. “Should we be calling 911?”
“And tell them what?” I asked. “That two ghosts have confirmed a dead body is lying in Suite C?”
He shrugged. “I can just tell them that I heard something suspicious.”
“That office isn’t close enough for you to hear something suspicious unless someone took him down with a nine millimeter handgun at the very least. We should probably walk up there and accidentally find him.”
Dr. Callahan lifted his soda cup. “You seem to know a lot about these things.” He sucked on the straw until the tell-tale slurping sound indicated that he’d emptied his supply. He shook the ice around and slurped some more, just to be sure.
“If you had read my résumé, you would have seen that I worked for the Stephens City Police for two years. I have a little experience in this area, unfortunately.”
No one wanted to do this less than I did. Chances were good that when the squad car arrived, I’d know the guy driving. I had wanted to leave my police life behind me with the heartache, but that just wasn’t happening.
So up we marched to Suite C, Moonflower hanging on Dr. Callahan like a honeymooning bride, and Marmaduke chattering on about something. I wasn’t really listening since I was more engrossed in sizing up the doctor. At first he had seemed odd enough that his more appealing features were lost on me. Now I was keenly aware of his confident stride, not to mention the feathery straw-colored hair that showed blond highlights when the sun hit it just right. And a hint of a dimple that puckered on his left cheek when he squinted against the sun. He smelled good too. I wasn’t sure if it was cologne or the soap he used, but either way, I was definitely finding myself a tad attracted.
Marmaduke whispered in my ear, evidently aware that I was ogling. “Did you say you accepted the position working for this bloke?”
“Yes.”
“Is it wise then, to mix business with pleasure?”
I’d grown accustomed to Marmi’s jealous nature. Even though he was a ghost and I was not, it was obvious that he had a little crush on me. Consequently, he always had a reason why this man or that man was “not fitting.” Unfortunately, he’d called this one right. I couldn’t even consider an attraction, much less a relationship, with my boss. In my younger years, I would have been careless and said What the heck?, but having been around the block a few times at the age of twenty-nine, I was going to take the mature path and sweep any idea of romantic possibilities right out the door. Besides, who needed a romantic entanglement with a man whose ghost wanted me out of the picture? Marmaduke wa
s right. I needed to nip this blossoming temptation in the bud before it grew into a weed too tough to pull.
We arrived in front of the door to Suite C, which appeared identical to that of Dr. Callahan’s Suite A, except for any shade from dogwood trees. The letters on the brick above read, Stephens City Realty, Ronald Ellison, Agent.
Dr. Callahan pulled on the door, but it didn’t budge.
“Can you see anything inside?” I asked. Not waiting for an answer, I stepped beside Dr. Callahan and peeked through the glass. I had to cup my hands and use them as shields against the bright sun that reflected back at me.
The office appeared wider than Dr. Callahan’s, but neater. A waiting room was furnished with black leather armchairs and a ficus tree that stood in one corner. A hallway led back with just one door visible on the left wall. What I did not see, however, was a body—dead or alive.
“You wouldn’t see him from there, Johnny.” Moonflower sighed, then floated through the glass and to the closed door on the hallway wall. I envied that ghostly ability to travel through walls and barriers. Don’t get me wrong—I like my body and love being alive, but really, how cool would it be to just walk through a wall?
Moonflower pointed to the door, which I guessed meant that the body of the dead man lay behind it.
“Now what?” Dr. Callahan asked.
Good question. With no evidence of an accident or crime and no reason to be suspicious, what would we say when we called 911? While I pondered our dilemma, a gold Mercedes rolled slowly around the upper corner of the parking lot and turned into a space right in front of us. The driver, a woman with thin, blunt-cut, shoulder-length hair and harsh bangs climbed out of the front seat, eyeing us warily. “Can I help you?”
Dr. Callahan cleared his throat and spoke in a cracking voice. “We were looking for Ronald Ellison, but the door is locked. Do you know if he’s around?”
“The door’s locked? Are you sure?” She slammed the car door and stomped, pushing through us. She yanked on the doorknob. When it didn’t open, she fiddled through the ring of keys in her hand until she found one she liked, inserted it into the dead bolt and yanked again. When that didn’t help her open the door, she blew out a frustrated breath, found another key, jammed it into the doorknob and turned again. “Why exactly were you looking for him?” she asked, pulling the door open successfully this time. “Did you have an appointment?”
I cringed inwardly, knowing this woman was about to make a grisly discovery. “No appointment,” I said, winging it as we followed her into the waiting room. “Just making inquiries. You are?”
“Dory Ellison, his wife.”
“Excuse me one moment,” said Mrs. Ellison. She disappeared around the corner.
I held my breath, expecting the worst.
Dr. Callahan leaned toward me and whispered. “Do you think she’ll scream?”
Trying to ignore the pleasant thoughts his tantalizing aroma elicited, I shrugged and peeked down the hallway to see Dory Ellison returning with a smile on her face. She’d come from a different office down the hall—not the infamous death-room.
“I don’t know why he isn’t here,” she said, her face crinkled in bewilderment or dismay. It was hard to tell which. “He must have walked to the McDonald’s for lunch, although I will say, the timing couldn’t be worse.” She heaved an annoyed sigh, answering my question—dismay. She was definitely dismayed. But not for long apparently, because the crinkles disappeared like magic when she flashed a photo-ready smile. “How can I help you? Are you wanting to buy, sell, or rent?” Evidently, Dory Ellison didn’t let a little thing like a missing husband get in the way of a potential business deal.
Dr. Callahan’s eyes flicked to Moonflower. “Do something,” he said through clenched teeth.
Moonflower smiled. “Anything for you, Johnny.” She floated off, through the wall again.
Mrs. Ellison was confused. “I’m not sure I understand. Mr...”
“Doctor,” he said, “Doctor Callahan. I wanted to do something... new.”
Maybe the man wasn’t good at fibbing on the spot. “Dr. Callahan is the optometrist around the corner in Suite A,” I said, stepping in. “He was just wondering what kind of rent he could get for his office space.”
“I know that office. But didn’t you just move into that space a couple of months ago?”
Oops.
A loud crashing sound reverberated from the mysterious room. So, I thought, Moonflower can move mass. According to Marmaduke, not all ghosts were capable of such a feat. I was impressed. She still annoyed me, but I was impressed all the same.
All heads turned to the closed door.
“That’s strange...” Mrs. Ellison’s voice trailed off as she took a few tentative steps in that direction. When she wrapped her hand around the doorknob, I cringed again, knowing the discovery was certain this time. Moonflower was floating through the wall, just as Mrs. Ellison entered the room. I didn’t even count one-Mississippi before hearing the predictable, ear-splitting scream.
“Ronald! Oh! Oh, dear! Help!”
Dr. Callahan reacted immediately to Mrs. Ellison’s call for help, and I was right on his heels. With the chivalry of a confident knight, he knelt beside Ronald Ellison’s body which lay face up on the brown carpet. He put a finger to the man’s throat, then an ear to his chest. Mrs. Ellison knelt on his other side, shaking her poor dead husband. The forced motion bounced Dr. Callahan’s head around while he listened for signs of life. She yelled at me to call 911, but I was way ahead of her, dialing my cell phone while she continued to shake Ronald. “Wake up, wake up!” she moaned.
While I gave information to the emergency dispatcher, I scanned the room, wondering if Ronald might appear at his wife’s request. If he did, he wasn’t allowing me to see him. When the dispatcher hung up, I whispered to Marmaduke. “Is he here now?”
Marmi shook his head. “No such luck, as you young Americans like to say.”
“I’m sorry,” Dr. Callahan said to the distraught woman on the floor. “He’s... well... I mean... he’s not alive.”
She stopped suddenly, as if slapped. “He’s dead?”
“That’s... well... yes.”
She looked at her husband, then back at Dr. Callahan. “You’re a doctor, save him!”
Dr. Callahan blinked. “I’m an optometrist, not an ER doctor. Eyes.” He pointed to his own frantically. “I do eyes.”
Mrs. Ellison didn’t seem to care. “Do you know CPR?”
It was obvious to me that as heroic as he’d like to be, Dr. Callahan knew Mr. Ellison was beyond hope. “Yes, but—”
“Then do it!” she shouted. “Save him! He can’t die.”
Dr. Callahan shot me a what-do-I-do-now look, but I was short on bright ideas. I shrugged.
“I don’t know,” he answered. “I mean, he feels kind of cold to the touch. I’m pretty sure he’s...gone.”
Like a spine-tingling scene in a horror flick, Mrs. Ellison’s face morphed instantly from distraught to possessed-by-the-devil raging, and her voice lowered at least a hundred octaves. “Do it!” she growled.
Probably fearing for his own life at this point, Dr. Callahan got to work, tilting Ronald’s head back, loosening his shirt, and checking his airway for obstructions. I felt badly for him. It’s one thing to know you’re saving a person’s life when you go in for mouth-to-mouth, but it can’t be pleasant to know you’re going to be swapping saliva with a corpse. His face went from white to green as he bent down to give the first breaths.
“My, my,” Marmaduke said with a smile. “Look who decided to join us in this rousing festival. Or should I say, a-rousing?” He nodded toward the corner of the room where Ronald the ghost stood, holding a perplexed expression on his transparent face. It was then, too, that I noticed Moonflower had disappeared.
During the first set of chest pumps, Ronald the ghost moved in closer to his body, eyeing it with interest. Then he looked up at Marmaduke. “What’s your guess? You think I
can bring that sucker back to life?”
Marmi chuckled. “I must say, I have never seen it done myself, although I’ve heard tales that it is possible.”
“What sort of odds do you give me?”
Marmi shook his head dismissively. “I am not a betting man, sir.”
I was stunned. Was this ghost really going to attempt to revive his own body?
“How about you, cutie?” The ghost of Ronald Ellison winked at me. “You think I can pull this off?”
Without thinking, I answered him out loud. “Do you really want to try? What if there’s brain damage?”
Assuming that I was addressing him, Dr. Callahan stopped pumping Ronald’s chest. “That’s a very good point, Sophie. We should consider the possibility of brain damage.”
“Don’t stop!” roared the wife.
Obeying, Dr. Callahan pumped twice more, then moved into position, plugging Ronald’s nose and poising to give another breath. Simultaneously, Ronald smiled a devious smile, laid over his own body and disappeared. It was right then, while Dr. Callahan and Ronald Ellison were lip-locked, that the dead man coughed and resurrected. It was also right then that Dr. Callahan screamed like a girl, and fell backwards on his rump, horror stricken. I have to admit, the scream sort of ruined the whole chivalrous knight thing for me briefly, but he recovered quickly, and really, who wouldn’t scream when a dead man coughs in your mouth?
“Maybe I should have taken that wager,” said Marmaduke, obviously impressed.
And as we all heard the first howl of sirens in the distance, Dory Ellison slapped her husband hard on the face. “You idiot!” she screamed. “You’re missing the Williams closing!”
CHAPTER THREE
DORY ELLISON’S BIZARRE REACTION MIGHT have been more awkward if the sirens, now blaring loudly, hadn’t distracted us. I took advantage of the interruption to run out the front door and make sure they found the right office suite. Then I convinced Dr. Callahan that we should get out of everyone’s way and head back to his office. He did have a patient at four o’clock, after all. Even though it was only 1:15 by my watch, that left me quality time to train up in my new job. Marmaduke said he would stick around and watch the Ellisons to see how things unfolded.
Keep Me Ghosted (Sophie Rhodes Romantic Comedy #1) Page 2
