The Ghost Who Ate Grits

by Amy Boyles

  “He won’t let me.”

  “Who won’t?”

  In my experience no ghost had ever forced another into a bad situation. I wasn’t about to let that happen here.

  “The big guy.” The spirit pointed to the ceiling. “He won’t let me go.”

  “Where is he? I want to meet him.”

  The spirit shrugged. “He’s gone now. But he’ll be back. Just you wait, Blissful Breneaux. When he returns, you’ll be the first to know.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because he’s looking for you.”

  I opened my mouth to say more, but the sound of sirens split the air. I whipped my head toward them and back to the spirit. I needed to know more. Like, who was this ghost who thought he could bully everyone around?

  But when I glanced back at the ghost who ate grits, he was gone.

  FIVE

  “We’ll have to see if we have any missing persons from the area.”

  Sheriff Kency Blount stood outside the house. The forensics team had scooped out the body and was scouring the area.

  Was scoop the right word, or was that a bit morbid?

  I mean, it wasn’t like the woman was trapped in ice cream. She’d been embedded in dirt for years.

  Kency Blount tossed a long strand of red hair over one shoulder. “I hear the ghost told you where to find her.”

  “And if she did?”

  “Then maybe she could also tell you who she was. I’ve got nothing to go on here, Blissful. We’ll have to search missing person’s records, see if DNA turns up anything.”

  “How about you start with who used to own this house?” I suggested.

  “Cute,” was all she said. It probably wasn’t too cute that I was doing her job for her.

  “What about the family?”

  “I suggested they check into a hotel for a few nights.” Kency thumbed toward her team. “My guys will need to come and go for a while. It’s best they’re gone so we don’t upset them. They have a young daughter.”

  As if on cue, Brownie strode by carrying a girl who looked to be about eight or nine. She had straw-colored hair and dazzling blue eyes that made me feel like she saw directly into my soul.

  She’s clairvoyant.

  I wondered what she had seen in that house, if she knew more than me. But I wouldn’t ask in front of her mother.

  Brownie stopped, turned back and swept over to me. “Thank you, Blissful. Thank you for putting this to rest.”

  I gave her a hug and smiled at the girl. “You must be—”

  “This is Maisie,” Brownie said.

  I knew there was a joke in there somewhere about how both their names were cutesy and ended in an e sound, but I decided to let it go.

  Maisie clutched a doll. “That’s a very pretty baby you have.”

  The girl’s gaze flickered from it to me. “Thank you.”

  I extended my hand. Sometimes when I touched a clairvoyant, we could share things. I did so now, hoping to see into the girl, know what she knew.

  As soon as my fingers brushed her arm, a shock bolted through my body. Images flashed in my head. In the girl’s mind I saw the dead woman and the same pictures I’d been shown.

  But there was more. In the background was a looming shadow, darker than dark. I swallowed a knot in the back of my throat and said goodbye to them.

  As I watched them walk off, Maisie glanced back. As much as I wanted this to be done, I had a feeling this simple haunting case was far from over.

  I awoke the next morning to my doorbell ringing. What the heck? Why would anyone see me before coffee? What sort of evil was that?

  I slid on a robe, rubbed the crap out of my eyes and headed to the front door. When I flung it open, Ruth and Alice swept in.

  “We brought coffee!” Alice sang on her way to the kitchen.

  “I wanted to bring champagne, but Alice wouldn’t let me,” Ruth grumbled.

  I stifled a laugh. “Why not? We’re in private. Everyone knows Baptists don’t drink in public, but the privacy of my home is an entirely different story.”

  “Because, Blissful…” Alice shrugged out of her coat and pegged it on the wall. “We don’t drink before three p.m. Everyone knows that.”

  “What about mimosas?” I opened the cabinets, looking for cups.

  “What’s a mimosa?” Alice asked Ruth.

  “It’s a drink of orange juice and champagne. It’s a brunch drink for lightweights like you and me.”

  Alice’s expression fell as if she were now truly sorry she hadn’t brought the fixings for a mimosa breakfast.

  I wrapped my arms around her. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not a big deal. Let’s have coffee.” I paused. It dawned on me that champagne was a celebratory drink. “Wait. What exactly are we supposed to be celebrating?”

  “The big catch last night.” Ruth pulled a newspaper from her purse. “Voila! You are the talk of the town.”

  I sat and read the piece. “‘Thanks to local clairvoyant, Blissful Breneaux, the police have recovered the body of an unknown woman. Sheriff Kency Blount has vowed to determine who she is. If anyone knows of a missing person’s case from roughly the nineteen seventies, please contact the sheriff’s office.’”

  “They figured that out fast,” I said. “How do you think the police know what era she died in?”

  “The clothes,” Ruth said. “Didn’t you see the bellbottoms she was wearing?”

  “I didn’t pay attention.” I dropped the paper to my lap. “Both of y’all were around then. Do you know of anyone who disappeared during that time?”

  Alice shook her head. “I can’t think of anyone. But you know, it was the seventies. There’s no telling who dropped illicit drugs in my coffee. Why, there might be an entire year I’ve forgotten.”

  Ruth rolled her eyes. “That’s unlikely, Alice.”

  I thumped the paper. “What about the owners? Who lived in the house then?”

  Ruth shot Alice a skeptical look. “Bliss, we’re supposed to be celebrating.”

  I rubbed my forehead. “I know. I know that’s what we’re supposed to be doing, but it’s so strange.”

  Ruth settled a cup of steaming coffee in front of me. “It’s about that ghost you saw last night, isn’t it? The one who was talking to you?”

  “What ghost?” Alice said. “Was there another ghost? I only knew about the one ghost. Are the two of y’all holding out on me?”

  I raked my fingers through my hair. “No, we’re not holding out on you, Alice. After you went upstairs, there was this ghost, he was chomping on a bowl of grits—”

  “Were the grits particularly hard?” Alice said.

  “Um. No. I don’t think so. Why?”

  “Because if they’re cooked right, they won’t be crunchy at all. He shouldn’t have been chomping.”

  Note to self: grits won’t be chompy so do not describe them as such. “My mistake. The grits were soft. I didn’t hear any chomping noises. Let me correct myself.” I pulsed my hands. “Now. Would you like to hear the story?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “This ghost—I didn’t catch his name—said that there was another spirit in the house who wouldn’t let him leave.”

  Ruth slurped her coffee. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  I nibbled my lip. “He said that bad spirit was the one looking for me.”

  “Oh,” Ruth said.

  “Oh,” Alice repeated.

  “Not good, right?” I crossed my arms and leaned back in the chair. “So Kency Blount has a body but no idea who it belongs to.”

  “Oh, she’ll figure it out.” Alice pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her glasses. “Kency will call the old sheriff and ask him for help if she has to.”

  Ruth wagged a finger at Ruth. “You know, wasn’t that old place a bed-and-breakfast?”

  “What old place? Kency’s house?”

  “No, Alice, the home we were at last night. Didn’t it used to be one ye
ars ago?”

  Alice pulled a tin from her pocket and opened it up. “Millionaire shortbread, anyone?”

  I was one to watch my diet and weight, but I would give all that up for a square of this dessert. “Just give me the whole tin.”

  Clearly I was stress eating. Alice took a cube for herself, stared longingly at the rest for a moment and then handed the tin to me.

  I bit into the chewy piece of heaven and moaned. “Life doesn’t get any better than this. I could die now and be happy.”

  Ruth snatched the tin from me. “Don’t say things like that, Blissful.” She bit into her own piece and chewed for a moment. “Besides, if you’re going to enjoy heaven, you’d better be able to share with the rest of us.”

  I threw my head back and laughed. “Okay. But that doesn’t answer the question. Alice?”

  Alice’s gaze darted from Ruth to me. “What question?”

  “Was the Jarvis place a bed-and-breakfast years ago?”

  “Oh. Maybe. Yes. I think so.”

  “Well?” I glanced at both women expectantly.

  “Well what?” Ruth said.

  “Who were the owners? What happened to them?”

  Alice shook her head. “How would I know? I’m not a nosy rosy.”

  I slapped my forehead. “Okay. Thank you for your help. Looks like I’ll be solving this mystery on my own.”

  Ruth brushed her hands. “What are you talking about?”

  “The ghost that the guy who ate grits mentioned. First of all, the female spirit showed me where her body was, but I didn’t get her name. I know nothing about her. There’s a good chance she’s still in that house.”

  I shook my head and kicked my feet up onto an empty chair. “I don’t like this. I don’t like any of it.”

  Alice pointed to the newspaper. “But it’s your greatest achievement. You’re everywhere, Blissful. You helped find a body.”

  I nodded. “I know all that, but the real issue is still this ghost who summoned me. It wasn’t the girl.”

  Ruth gasped. “Why didn’t you say that?”

  “Oh. I thought I did.”

  “No, you didn’t.” Ruth ate another piece of shortbread. She spoke between chews. “How do you know that?”

  I shrugged. “Just a feeling.”

  “I think you should recheck your feelings,” Alice said.

  Ruth and I shot her surprised looks.

  “What?” Alice slumped into her chair. “Blissful, you are now famous, and you’re running from it. That’s all this is. You helped find a possible missing person.”

  “I would say she’s definitely missing or else she would’ve had an actual burial,” I argued.

  “Still. Now you’re all worked up about some ghost you didn’t even see.” Alice worried her lips. “I think your job is done and you’re looking for something that doesn’t exist.”

  “What’s wrong with her?” I said to Ruth.

  “I think she’s angry because you stole her shortbread.” Ruth handed the tin to me.

  I handed it back to Alice, who took a square. “I’m not angry about the shortbread; I’m just pointing out facts. Fact, we found a body. Fact, now you’re making things up.”

  My jaw dropped. “I’m not making anything up.”

  “You have no proof there’s another spirit who wants you.”

  “The guy who liked the grits so much said I’d meet the other spirit and that he wouldn’t allow this guy—Grits Guy—to leave.”

  Alice shook her head. “What do you think’s going to happen? This ghost is going to appear in your room?”

  I scoffed. “No. God, I hope not. What a pervert.”

  Ruth poured herself another cup of coffee and slurped it. “I say we did our job and now let the police do theirs. Besides, I haven’t gone to the shop yet. I’m sure the phone will be ringing off the hook by the time we arrive. Folks will all want to know if you can find bodies in their homes, too.”

  I shivered. “That’s creepy. Let’s hope not. If anyone asks, tell them I don’t make it a point to find bodies. Period. I’m not going to anyone’s house or backyard to dig for anything. This was a one-time event. One time.”

  I glanced at both ladies. “Understood?”

  “Understood,” Ruth said. “Don’t worry, Blissful. I will tell folks you don’t go to their houses to find bodies.”

  “Thank you.”

  Alice’s expression filled with wonder. “But can we tell them that if there is a body, Blissful will find it?”

  Before I could answer, Ruth clapped her hands. “A marvelous solution. Now Alice, let me do the talking. If anyone asks, that’s the answer and I’ll be the one to give it.”

  Alice pulled her coat back on. “But I’m the one who thought it up. Besides, I can work it in while I’m selling them a pair of baby booties.”

  “Great idea.” Ruth swiveled to me. “Blissful?”

  My mind had been consumed with things other than bodies. I blinked at her. “Yes?”

  “Does that sound good to you?”

  I smiled. “It sounds great. Now get out of here. I’ll catch up with the two of you later.”

  When they were gone, I shut the door and exhaled, pressing my back to the wood. The fact that my skin could register the cold and hardness of the door wasn’t lost on me.

  Thank goodness I was alive and not a ghost, haunting some house.

  Speaking of haunted houses—

  I showered, dressed and set out for the Jarvis place. I had questions, and that home held the answers.

  SIX

  “I can’t let you in here, Blissful.”

  So my great and awesome plans went awry when I ran into Kency Blount. Figured she’d be around to screw up my own personal clairvoyant investigation.

  “Why not?”

  The sheriff stood on one side of the door—the side that led into the house—and I stood on the other—the one that exposed me to all the elements. Considering it was winter, I was highly exposed to the frigid temperatures in Alabama that had dipped well into the forties.

  Kency glared at me as if I was as dense as a canned ham. “Because this is a murder investigation.”

  “I’m the one who found the body.”

  “And for that I’m grateful.”

  “Do you know who she is yet?”

  “We’re still working on it.”

  Aha! My in. “What if I told you that I could get her name? All I need is to come inside for a few minutes.”

  Kency’s head dipped to the right. “How stupid do you think I am?”

  Is that a trick question? “I don’t. But I helped you find her. No. Wait. I found her because the spirit showed me her body. If I could get a name, how much do you think that would help?”

  “It wouldn’t.” She stared at me with cold eyes. Kency didn’t want me anywhere near her investigation. I knew that. But a promise like a name was too much for even this ice queen to pass up.

  “You and I both know the public is going to want that name. They’ll want it something fierce. If you could deliver it the very next day, wow! You would be the star of the town. I can smell re-election in your future.”

  “You really burn my butt, you know that?”

  “Better your butt than somewhere else.”

  She grimaced. Kency stared at me hard enough to melt me into a puddle. But then she sighed and backed away. “Come in.” She stopped. “Don’t touch anything. Don’t even breathe on anything.”

  I raised my hands in surrender. “I wasn’t planning on it. I may actually have to breathe, you know, so that I can survive while I’m in here.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Just don’t be dramatic about it.”

  “Promise.”

  I stepped inside. The house was truly magnificent during the day. High ceilings and tall windows that allowed bright light to filter in made the home warm and cozy.

  Then I smelled it. A scent like dog poop. I narrowed my gaze. “Did anyone bring a dog in here?”
/>   “Yeah,” Kency said sarcastically, “we always bring dogs to crime scenes.”

  “You know there are cadaver dogs.”

  “We don’t have any of those.”

  “Maybe you should get one.”

  “Maybe you should get me a name.” Her eyes narrowed to slitty wedges of death. “Before I kick you out.”

  “So touchy this morning, Kency. And I gave you a body. I would think you’d be more grateful about that.”

  She opened her mouth to say something and then clamped her lips tight. “I have no comment.”

  “All right. Let me do my work and get you what you need.”

  Kency gestured for me to move along, which I did. But not before shooting her a dirty look in the process. No, I was not above shooting dirty looks to a woman I had helped out and who had been as gracious as a freaking cactus about it.

  Come to think of it, her personality was about as prickly as one as well.

  I decided to start upstairs since I hadn’t investigated that part of the home the night before. The grand staircase smelled of orange oil soap. From the lines splintering through the wood, it was obviously old, but the coat of polish on the surface made it look brand-spanking-new.

  I wondered if putting oil soap on Kency Blount would give her a better attitude.

  One could only hope.

  I reached the second-floor landing. Several doors split off from the hallway on either side.

  I walked the hall and closed my eyes—yes, I was walking with eyes closed. Don’t worry; I was mostly sure I wouldn’t bump into anything and break my nose.

  I stilled my mind and listened, feeling to see if an entity was nearby. A wind rustled behind me, lifting my hair. I blinked my eyes open.

  There she stood.

  At the end of the corridor, wearing the same white dress.

  My gaze shot straight through her to the wall behind. Her clothes fluttered as if she stood in front of an open window. Her dark eyes studied me.

  A tingle swept from my scalp to my toes.

  “Hello,” I said.

  She nodded.

  “Thank you for showing me where you were buried.”