Get Up and Ghost

by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

  “Did you do it?”

  “No, of course not, but it’s important I find out who did. I don’t want this upsetting my son. We just moved back to my home town after my divorce. He doesn’t need anything else on his plate right now.

  “I understand. But the dead, they like to keep us on our toes.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean a spirit doesn’t always just sit down over a cup of coffee and fill us in on the gory details. They like to make things a little harder than that.”

  “Great. As if this wasn’t impossible enough.”

  “Let me guess, the guy was killed in the same location as the woman you saw?”

  “Yes, ma’am. How did you know that?”

  “I’ve been doing this a while. I see the patterns now. And she came through, but he didn’t.”

  “Yes.”

  “When did she pass?”

  “The late 1800s.”

  “Oh, good grief. She needs to move on.”

  Angela Panther was funny. “I get the sense that she’s not much interested in that.”

  “Not yet, but that’s because she’s been trying to find someone to tell her story to. Now that she’s got you, I suspect she won’t be around much longer.”

  “But I can’t do anything for her.”

  “Sure you can. You can set the story straight and send her on her way.”

  I fell back against the outer wall of the restrooms. “I don’t know how to do that.” I gasped. “I...I just...”

  Angela Panther laughed again. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to laugh at you because I’ve been there. I could write the book on freaking out about helping the dead, but trust me, the sooner you realize you’ve got a new, unpaying but extremely emotionally satisfying job, you’ll adjust.”

  “I think I’m a bit overwhelmed.”

  Her tone softened. “You are, and that’s okay. Baby steps. That’s what my psychic counselor told me, and she was right. Tell me what happened with Agnes. It’s my experience that there’s always more to what they’re telling us than what we think or can figure out in the heat of the moment. When I was a newbie like you, it took me a long time to see the forest through the trees, so I’m sure I can help you navigate this.”

  “How did you know her name was Agnes?”

  She laughed again. “I have a gift, remember?”

  Lord, I did not know how things worked, but I took a deep breath and filled her in on exactly what happened.

  “So none of the stories about Agnes’s death ever mention a knife?”

  “No, ma’am. Not a one.”

  “Chantilly—great name by the way—how old are you?”

  “Forty-five, why?”

  “I’m not a heck of a lot older than you, and I’m not from the South, so you don’t have to call me ma’am. Please don’t. It makes me feel so old.”

  “Yes, ma—Angela.”

  “Okay, let me see if I’ve got this straight. Agnes Hamilton was obviously hanged—hung—let’s just say killed, I can never figure out the right word—by someone in black, and Bobby Pruitt was stabbed, and you saw the person in black in a vision in his office, yes, too?”

  “Yes—” I stopped myself before calling her ma’am. “And I can’t differentiate the two. They appeared to be the same person, but that can’t be possible because the person in black who killed Agnes Hamilton was her fiancé, Josiah Dilts.”

  “I doubt it’s the same person. It’s more a frame of reference for Agnes. She’s showing you something that happened to her and connecting to what happened to your current spirit. The problem with that is we don’t know if the person was actually there when your guy was killed, of if Agnes is showing you something that means something entirely different.”

  I sighed. “This is too much for me to understand.”

  “It’s definitely over your pay grade for now, but you’ll catch on quickly. I can tell that about you.”

  “So, what am I supposed to do, just guess?

  “Communicating with spirits is different for everyone. You’ll need to set some ground rules, and I can get you some information to learn how to do that. But it’s also important to understand how they’re communicating with you, that it’s a puzzle that, a lot of times, is pieces that reflect something in your life so you can understand it easier.”

  “I don’t understand any of it.”

  “That happens, too.”

  I laughed just as Thelma walked out. “You talking to Delphina?” She pulled her teeth out and smiled. “Take one of those phone camera pictures of me and for her. Tell her I said hi.”

  I held the phone away from my head. “No, it’s someone else. Have a seat on the bench for a minute, okay? We’ll head over to the food truck in a bit.”

  She waddled over to the bench and fanned herself after she hollered at a middle aged man to give her a hand. He eased her down onto the bench.

  “Sorry about that,” I said to Ms. Panther.

  “No worries. It does sound to me like there’s a message in there from Agnes about Bobby’s death, too. The trick is figuring out what it is.”

  “I don’t have any idea how to do that.”

  “I’ll see if I can get anything out of Bobby, but the truth is, he may be at peace, and he’s not coming back. It happens often.”

  “Even though he was murdered?”

  “Things like that don’t always matter. And then you’ve got those spirits that are intent on telling their fourth cousin twice removed where they left their silver dollar collection. I swear, the things I’ve had to tell people.”

  Oh heavens, I hoped I wouldn’t be called upon to do anything like that.

  She offered a handful of options on how to proceed, and asked for my email and that I call her in a day or two.

  “Who was that? I’m so hungry sitting here, I could eat my own arm.”

  “I don’t think so.” I helped her up. “Your arms don’t have enough meat to satisfy even a mouse.”

  “Do mice eat people? I was thinking about getting one of those gerbil things as a pet, but now maybe I should rethink that.”

  Bless her heart. Thelma was as sweet as they came, but just one can short of a six pack. “Sweetie, a gerbil won’t eat you, I promise.”

  “Maybe I’ll just get a cat.”

  I didn’t have the heart to tell her that if something did happen to her she was better off with the gerbil.

  As we walked over to the Lye BBQ food truck I told her about my talk with Angela Panther.

  “Oh, how exciting.” She rubbed her frail hands together. “Does that mean we’re going to get to meet a real live psychic?”

  Thelma was all smiles, but I saw a sliver of hope stretch across her face. She’d lost the people that mattered most in her life. Her son, Charlie junior, was killed in Vietnam, and then she lost her husband. She must have felt so lonely sometimes.

  The pain of losing my parents tore my heart to pieces, but each loss was independent of the other, and each relationship represented a distinctly different type of loss, and I couldn’t begin to imagine how Thelma felt.

  I hugged my right arm around her shoulder, partly to help guide her over the bumpy sidewalk, but also to offer the little comfort I could. “If we can, Thelma, we’ll get a message to your husband and son, I promise.”

  She leaned her wig onto my shoulder, and the large bleached blonde bun hit my cheek. “Charlie and I talk every day. Even if I can’t see him, I know he’s with me. I feel him here still.”

  I smiled. Thelma was a trooper.

  The Lye BBQ food truck sat parked next to the main entrance to section three of the lacrosse fields, and thankfully where Austin’s game was. I strongly suggested Thelma pop a squat on one of the benches, but nope, she wanted to order her own food and be a part of the conversation with Jesse and Julia.

  How could anyone say no to a little old woman in a Dolly Parton wig?

  Jesse leaned out of the truck’s serving area and smiled. “Well, we
ll, look who’s come to try our barbecue.” His belly jiggled when he talked, and from the way his eyes sparkled and the skin around them crinkled, I couldn’t help but think he’d make a great old man. I imagined him sitting on an old rocker on the front porch of a home chewing on a piece of straw while his grandkids played in the yard.

  Julia Lye shouted from behind him. “I don’t care who’s there. Just tell me if it’s pork or chicken.”

  She was just such a lovely person.

  “I’ll take both,” Thelma hollered back. “And no bread. I’m watching my figure.”

  Jesse laughed. “What can I get you?”

  I really didn’t want to sample any of the competitors dishes. It wasn’t against the competition rules, but as a judge, it seemed like poor etiquette, and given the fact that Lonna would very likely be writing an article slamming me, I didn’t think it would help my case. “Just an iced tea for me.”

  “You sure?”

  Julia stepped up to the window, pushing her husband aside with the bump of a hip. “You should try the pork. It’s extra tender today.”

  “Thanks, but I just ate,” I lied.

  Thelma took out a ten dollar bill, but when she handed it to Jesse, he waved her off. “Senior discount is one hundred percent off.”

  Julia’s displeasure at his freebie was obvious from her snarl. He ignored her and handed the plate full of chicken and pork BBQ to Thelma.

  She examined it with a critical eye, leaned into me and whispered, “Looks a little on the dry side.”

  I chuckled.

  “Hey Jesse, can we talk for a minute?” I glanced behind me. The line wasn’t long, and I assumed his wife could handle it if he stepped away for a moment.

  “Sure, gimme a sec.” He wiped the top of his brow with a red cloth and disappeared into the back of the truck. A second later he was standing by my side. “What’s up?”

  With a mouth full of BBQ, chicken or pork, I wasn’t sure, Thelma said, “We came to find out if you killed Bobby Pruitt so you could win the competition.”

  Jesse’s eyes widened. “Uh, what?”

  “Thelma, please.” I shrugged at Jesse. “She doesn’t mix her words. You’ve heard about his passing?”

  He nodded. “Didn’t much care for the man, but didn’t wish him dead, either.”

  “Have the police talked to you?”

  “No, ma’am, why?”

  “They’re talking to everyone that might have had a problem with Bobby.”

  He bounced on the tips of his toes. “I didn’t have a problem with Bobby. I mean, we had a disagreement about business, but that’s no reason to kill a man.”

  “Buddy Prakas ran his neighbor over with his horse and buggy for selling his crop at a penny less than his,” Thelma said.

  We both stared at her.

  She waved her fork at us. “I wasn’t there of course, but that’s the way the story goes.”

  “I don’t have a horse and buggy.”

  “No, but you have a food truck, and that could do a doozy of damage.”

  I leaned my head back and sighed. “Thelma, that’s not the way Bobby was killed.”

  She just shrugged and went back to eating her BBQ.

  I didn’t want to be dishonest with the man, and I wanted to get the truth out of him, too. “The morning Bobby was killed, I was at Hamilton House, so naturally, I’m a suspect. I didn’t do it, and I’m determined to find out who did.”

  His body stiffened. “What’s that got to do with me?”

  “I’m just putting all of my cards on the table. I know there was animosity between the two of you. I saw it in the meeting. Where were you the next morning shortly before nine o’clock?”

  He scratched his head. “You still a judge in the competition?”

  I nodded.

  His entire body stiffened, and the kindness he’s generally worn on his face disappeared, replaced with bitterness and with a side of anger. “I don’t really have to tell you anything, but if I don’t, you’re going to hold that against me in the competition then.”

  My stomach tied itself up into a knot, and not the kind that was easily undone. I instantly regretted my approach, and saw my volunteer position as a judge drive off after this year, if it even made it that far. “I would never do that. I’m simply trying to help my friend Delphina find out what happened to someone she cares deeply about, and clear my name. I have a son. I need to keep him safe.”

  He dipped his chin. “I know what it’s like to lose someone we care about. I didn’t kill the man. I was at the truck getting it prepped for the day. I’m there every morning bright and early.”

  “Where exactly is here?”

  “We keep it at our house of course, where we do most of our prepping.”

  “Can you explain what happened with the permit issue?”

  “We got our permit for the truck, and we were doing great. People in town like options, you know? We’re not trying to steal anybody’s business, we’re just trying to build our own. But Bobby, he didn’t agree, and when he found out about us, he showed up here pitching a fit like we was out to destroy his place and all. He swore he’d close us down, and my wife, she’s from Jersey, so she’s not one to keep her opinions to herself, she told him where he could stick that threat, and we just ignored him.” He stared off toward the lacrosse field. “We’d won the competition once before, and I think that was a big threat to Bobby, too. Next thing we knew, there he was, pushing a cart right up next to the truck and selling his barbecue for half the price of ours. He didn’t have a permit, so Julia reported him. We went to the city council meeting that following Monday to complain, and there he was, applying for an emergency retroactivated permit for the thing, and he got it.”

  I didn’t know the Bobby Pruitt of late, but I remembered the one from high school, and he was definitely the kind of guy that did that sort of thing. “And after the meeting?”

  He showed his palms and shrugged. “Nothing. He continued to park that cart here a few times a week, but we keep moving spots, and people, they caught on. We knew if they wanted our barbecue, they’d come. If they wanted his, they’d go to him. That deal at Hamilton House was his, not ours.”

  I wasn’t exactly sure his wife felt the same way. “Okay. Thank you. I’d like to talk with Julia, too. Do you think that would be okay?”

  “My wife was getting our daughter off to daycare. She does that every morning. We got a business to run, you know.”

  Thelma coughed. “I need to use the ladies’ room again. That barbecue is going right through me, and quick, too.”

  “Duty calls. Thank you for talking with me.”

  “We didn’t have nothing to do with that man’s death, ma’am. We’re just hard working people looking to raise our daughter good and earn a good living.”

  __________

  JACK MADE IT FOR THE last quarter of the game. Austin flipped around and high-fived him when Jack patted him on the back. I smiled on the inside. I wanted so much for Austin to re-establish his relationship with his father, but I wanted his father to be worthy of it, and he hadn’t been, at least not in Austin’s eyes. Jack however, was worthy of admiration, and that admiration was evident in my son’s body language every time Jack was nearby.

  It made my soul happy.

  After scoring five out of the seven goals, the last two giving them the win, Austin stunk worse than a dog sprayed by a family of skunks. I did not want to let that boy in my car, but I couldn’t let him walk home either. He’d stink up the rest of town for days, maybe longer.

  I left Thelma on the first row of bleachers and walked over to my son. “Coach Jack said I owned the game.”

  Jack stood next to him, smiling. “I didn’t say it that way. I said he rallied for the team.”

  “Same thing,” Austin said. He picked up his water bottle and squirted water onto his face.

  I cringed. The water would just exaggerate his rancid stench.

  “He had a good game. You heading ho
me?”

  I nodded. “I’ve got Thelma with me. She wanted to come and watch.”

  He raised his brow, which I thought was for me, but when I heard the shrill of Lonna Appleton’s Southern drawl behind me, I knew it wasn’t.

  Chapter Eight

  LONNA NARROWED HER eyes at me. “What are you doing here?”

  Jack ruffled my son’s hair. “Lonna, this is Austin, Chantilly’s son. She’s here to watch him play.”

  A sheen of red heat crept up her face from her neck. “Oh, silly.” She gave Jack a one-armed embrace and kissed him on the cheek. “I know that. I was talking to you.”

  In an alternative universe maybe, I thought.

  “It’s my team.”

  “Well, of course it is, sweetie, but don’t you have that big murder to investigate and all?” She glared straight at me again. “Such a tragedy, don’t you think, Chantilly? I sure hope the killer is found right quick.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “There was a murder? Here? Who?” Austin asked.

  “Oh honey, your momma didn’t tell you? Why it was—”

  “Lonna.” Jack’s voice was deep and stern, like he was talking to a child.

  I liked it.

  She tilted her head, keeping her eyes locked on yours truly. “What?”

  “What’re you doing here?”

  She wiggled the bag in her hand. “Why, I know you’ve been busy what with that murder investigation and all. I wanted to make sure you’d taken the time to eat, so I whipped something up for you and rushed over here to get it to you.” She held the bag out for him. “It’s an avocado, sprouts and egg salad sandwich, with olive oil mayo, of course, on multi-grain bread and a side of fruit.” She squeezed his right bicep. “Got to keep my man healthy.”

  He smiled one of those kinds of smiles people gave a doctor when asked if it hurt while being poked and prodded in an area where they had pain. Nope doc, doesn’t hurt a bit. He held the bag up, and for a second, I thought he was giving it back to her, but instead he said thank you.

  She kissed his cheek again. “Anything for you, my love.”

  The whole while she stared at me. Lonna Appleton did not want me on her turf, and I knew the article she’d written would be her ammunition to make sure I wasn’t.