Ghosts are People Too

by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

  Gen gave him one final nudge with the stick and stood it next to his. “That’s for the bruise I’m going to have on my knee.”

  Austin laughed. “You started it.”

  “Of course I did. It’s my job.”

  I smiled. I loved watching those two together, and I often wished Austin treated me like the fun non-aunt. Mother’s didn’t have that luxury though. We had a job to do to raise our boys to be the best men they could be, and I took that seriously. Sometimes too seriously.

  “Gen, I’ve got some news,” Jack said.

  She stepped away from Austin.

  “Austin, put your stuff in the car and please open the windows so you don’t kill one of us from the stench.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The three of us walked to the other side of my car.

  “You’re cleared,” I said.

  Jack shook his head, but not in disagreement, more in annoyance, but I didn’t care. “We didn’t find any gun powder residue on your clothing.”

  “I told you you wouldn’t. Does this mean I’m not a suspect?”

  “We’d still like you to stick around, but for now, the money laundering angle looks like the way to go. Can you tell me about your husband’s relationship with Harvey Barrington?”

  “There’s not much to tell. They’re business partners. Have been for years. It used to be three men, Jeffrey, Harvey and Charles, but about a year ago, Charles left, so now it’s just the two, or rather, it was. And as of late, there was some bickering going on between Jeffrey and Harvey.”

  “Who’s Charles?” he asked.

  “Charles Clydesdale.” She rolled her eyes. “A drama laden momma’s boy who thought he was the boss of Jeffrey and Harvey but couldn’t run a business if his life depended on it.”

  “They shared the financial advisor company?”

  She smiled. “Yes.”

  Jack nodded.

  “When was the last time you saw or spoke to Harvey?”

  She thought about it for a moment. “It’s been a while. We used to get together socially quite a bit, but ever since Charles left, we haven’t. I should call Jackie. Check on her and things.”

  “Is Jackie Charles’ wife?”

  “No, Harvey’s.”

  “I’m going to suggest you don’t do that until we solve your husband’s murder.”

  He also suggested, strongly, I keep my eyes on Gen at all times, and he promised to keep an eye out on the house and historical society in the event Harvey returned. I thanked him, grateful for his help and his willingness to talk with me in more than a few short sentences, and headed home.

  Chapter Six

  When we arrived back at my house, after a quick run through a fast food place for Austin, Gen and I pulled out the emails and read through them again.

  “These have a distinctly different tone than the others,” I said, separating the ones from the unknown Gmail account.

  Why are you doing this?

  Stop ignoring me.

  I’ll stop you if it’s the last thing I do.

  “They’re almost feminine,” I added. “Here,” I grabbed the ones from Harvey. “Read these. They’re not the same tone, so if Harvey’s our guy, then who is this person?”

  “I just can’t see Harvey doing something as horrible as killing my husband.”

  “Desperate people do desperate things.”

  “Harvey’s not stupid. He wouldn’t write these emails where he’s obviously annoyed and then go and kill Jeffrey. He’d throw himself right under the bus.”

  “You have a point. So, maybe he created a new Gmail account, and those are his emails, too.”

  She narrowed her eyes at those emails on the kitchen table. “I hadn’t considered that, but it just doesn’t make sense. I can’t see Harvey as a killer.”

  “Maybe you’re too close to it, but I’m not, and I can see him as a killer.” My cell phone rang. I glanced down at it. “It’s Jack.”

  “Oh, maybe he’s seen the light and wants to get closer to you?”

  “Jack? I don’t think so.” I accepted the call. “Hey, what’s up?”

  “We’ve found Harvey Barrington.”

  “Good. Maybe he’ll confess to killing Jeffrey and we can move on.”

  “Mr. Barrington isn’t in a position to tell us much of anything.”

  My heart raced. “I don’t think I want to know why.”

  “Sounds like you probably already do.”

  “Oh, no.” I held my phone out so Gen could hear, too, but left it off speaker in case Austin was within ear shot.

  “We found him at the same location as Jeffrey Avondale with the murder weapon in his hand, and we’re pretty sure it was the same one used to kill Mr. Avondale.”

  “He killed himself?” Gen asked. “I find that hard to believe.”

  That was Gen. She’s listening, too.”

  “Position of the body, angle of the wound, none of it points to Harvey Barrington taking his own life.”

  "So, you're saying whoever killed Gen's husband killed Harvey Barrington also?"

  “l can't confirm that, but based on what we know so far, I feel pretty comfortable agreeing with you."

  "So, what happens now?" I asked.

  I heard Jack sigh over the phone. "We continue our investigation. We’re running the prints from the gun, but like I said, I’m pretty sure it’s the same one that killed Mr. Avondale.”

  "I don't understand what's happening," Gen said. She held her head in her hands and cried.

  I held the phone to my ear. “Is there anything you need from me or Gen?"

  "Not at the moment. We’ve contacted Jackie Barrington and she's on her way to town. You know her, right?”

  “A little. Gen does though, obviously.”

  “You might want to stick close to your phone in case she needs someone."

  I patted my best friend’s hand. “You going to be okay? I’d like to talk to Jack some more.”

  She waved me off and smiled slightly. “I’m fine. Really. I need a minute anyway.”

  I squeezed her shoulder and whispered that I'd be right back and headed to the den. "Have your people finished reviewing the emails? What do you think about the Gmail ones? Could they be about the money laundering?”

  "It's possible.”

  “Gen didn’t know her husband was involved with anything nefarious, but that doesn’t mean Jackie didn’t. Do you think she could be involved?”

  “As I said, the money laundering isn't my turf. I can only investigate the murders, but that doesn't mean that I won't question Jackie Barrington about it."

  "She might know something. Something that can help figure out what happened to their husbands."

  "Chantilly, I know what happened to their husbands. They got involved with bad people, got in over their heads, and ended up dead because of it. I promise you, if Jackie Barrington knows something about it, I'll find out. In the meantime, we need to keep Gen out of the spotlight. Whoever did this knows she's here and will come looking. I don't have the manpower to have somebody watch her twenty-four seven, so I need your help keeping her inside.”

  I sighed. "That won't be easy. I'm keeping her busy planning this party for the Haunted Historical Society tour, but she's almost done with that. What am I supposed to do after? Or when we have the party? What if you don't catch the killer by then?"

  “We will.”

  His confidence was respectable, and I admired him for remaining positive when I was ready to have a heart attack. "I know this is going to sound strange, but do you think I could go to the morgue to see Jeffrey?”

  “Why?”

  “Let’s just say I have a weird fascination with dead people.” How could I tell Jack, a man I've known most of my life, a man I respected, and a man that I might have had a slight, minuscule, barely there interest in at one time in the recent past, that I wanted to try to talk to a dead guy? Jack didn't believe in ghosts. He made that clear after Bobby’s murder, and tellin
g him out right that he was wrong just didn't seem appropriate on my part or believable on his. Aside from the fact that my timing was incredibly poor, I just wasn’t ready for him to know. Our relationship was too fragile. If one could call what we had a relationship at all.

  "You still think ghosts are around us, don't you?" He laughed. "It's against policy, but I know the lead investigator, and I might be able to make an exception."

  "Aren't you the lead investigator?"

  "That's what I'm told. Does tomorrow morning around eight o'clock work for you? I've got a pretty busy day and that’s the best I can do. Meet me at the hospital?”

  "Yes. I'll get Thelma to sit with Gen before the historical society opens. I'm sure she'll be at Del's place bright and early. Thank you."

  I DROPPED GEN OFF AT Del’s, and as I suspected, Thelma was there, taunting Del as she dragged the comfy chair she loved across the floor and over to her favorite table. Thelma liked the chair because its soft cushion didn’t put pressure on her sciatica, but Del refused to put it at the table Thelma wanted to sit at every morning. Every morning the chair was back at the other table, so of course Del did it on purpose. It was a constant battle between the two, and one I knew they both enjoyed.

  “My sciatica. I keep telling her my sciatica hurts, and those hard chairs send the pain up near my unmentionable area.”

  Del handed Gen and I fresh, hot coffees. “That pain’s probably the first feeling your unmentionable area’s had in years. You should thank me for that.”

  Gen spit out her coffee and it splattered all over the table. “Oh, dear Lord. I am so sorry.”

  I gulped back a laugh.

  Del smirked. “Truth is the truth.”

  “And it sure is funny,” I said.

  “When my Charlie was alive, I had all kinds of feelings in my unmentionable area.”

  My eyes widened. “Perhaps that’s a conversation for another time.”

  “Mind your manners, Thelma. We got a guest here.”

  Gen smiled. “Oh, it’s okay. I’m all ears.”

  “Don’t talk about yourself that way honey,” Thelma said. She grabbed hold of Gen’s hand. “Sure, your ears are a little big, and they may have an odd shape to them, but some people here have ears they shouldn’t show in public.” She shot a glance toward Del.

  I redirected the conversation before it took a turn in the wrong direction. “Thelma, would you be able to spend some time doing more work at the historical society? I’ve got a meeting this morning, but I won’t be long.”

  “She’s going to the morgue and needs you to babysit me,” Gen said.

  I blinked. “Why do you think that?”

  “Your walls are thin. I heard you talking to Jack about seeing Jeffrey.” She sighed. “I’d go, but I just can’t. I can’t bear to see him that way again, not yet. I’m going to have to soon enough, but I’m not prepared now.”

  I wished I could take her pain away, but I didn’t want to push her to tears in front of anyone by saying that, so instead, I confessed. “She’s right, I need you to babysit her.” I softened my eyes and gave Gen a half-hearted smile. “But it’s not how it sounds. Jack suggested she lay low for her own benefit, and asked me to help with that, and that’s what I’m trying to do.”

  “And I appreciate your help, but I can lay low by myself. Besides, won’t Olivia be there soon?”

  I nodded. “Yes, she will, but I’m uncomfortable leaving you alone. What if something happens?”

  She leaned toward my ear. “If something happens, do you really think Thelma can save me?”

  She made a valid point.

  “Oh, don’t be silly, of course I can save you. I’m packing heat.” She held up her purse and pulled a gun out from the main compartment. “See?”

  Del’s hand flew to her chest and when she gasped, she made a squeaky sound. I was afraid she’d keel over from a heart attack right there in her café. “Thelma Sayers, you put that thing away in here. What in tarnation are you doing with a gun anyway?”

  Thelma stuffed the gun back into her purse, and I cringed when she dropped the bag on the floor. What if it had gone off when it hit the ground?

  She caught the panic in my eyes. “Now don’t you worry none. That thing is not going to just go off on its own.”

  I wasn’t so sure about that.

  “I’ll ask you again. What’re you doing with a gun?” Del asked.

  “What I’m always doing. Protecting myself.” She laughed. “Don’t you worry. I know how to use it. Charlie and I used to go into the woods and shoot all the time. I’m a good shot. Only missed the target a few times. Got me a squirrel once, too.” She sighed. “Wasn’t aiming for the poor little thing. It just swung its body right in my line of fire and boom. Squirrel everywhere.”

  Gen gulped as her complexion turned a pale green.

  I checked my watch. “Oh, look, it’s later than I thought. I’ve got to run. It’s okay, Thelma. I’m sure Gen will be fine after all.”

  Del chuckled.

  “Yes. I’ll...I’ll be fine,” Gen said.

  “Well, if you need me, just give me a call. I’ll come on by.”

  “Thanks, Thelma.” I kissed the top of her Dolly Parton wig, a shorter haired one cut to frame her face. It was pretty on her, highlighting her creamy skin tone and blue eyes. “I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

  Outside, Gen grabbed my hand. “Bless her heart, she’s going to kill someone one day.”

  “Let’s just hope she doesn’t take it out of her purse again.”

  “Yes, let’s.”

  I dropped her off at the historical society, gave her her marching orders and told her I’d be back soon.

  The ten-minute drive to the hospital didn’t give me enough time to prepare for the unexpected, but it was enough to give myself a pep talk of sorts.

  Looking back, I knew the pep talk could never have been enough, and any preparing I could have done wouldn’t have mattered. There was no way to prepare for the experience I had. I hoped the next time I went to a hospital it would be because I was old and dead.

  As I approached the main entrance, I smiled and acknowledged an older man, probably in his early eighties, standing barefoot, wearing a blue hospital gown and smoking a cigarette near the electronic door. He smiled back, and then a young woman exited the hospital and walked straight through him. I stopped and stared. The woman smiled, rubbed her arms like a cold breeze just hit her, which it did, and greeted me, but I couldn’t force any words out of my mouth. It just hung open in shock.

  The man smiled at me, too. “Some don’t pay us no mind, and don’t feel it like people like you do.”

  I nodded.

  “You’re new at this,” he said.

  I pretended to read a text on my phone but nodded.

  “I wouldn’t go in there then if I was you. Place is full of ghosts. You won’t like it.”

  Since no one was outside at the moment, I talked to the spirit freely. “I have to. It’s important.”

  “Then watch yourself. Some of them don’t know they’re dead.”

  I glanced to my left and right and then behind me. A woman headed my direction, but I wasn’t sure if she was dead or alive, even when she nodded. But when the doors opened from the pressure of her feet on the sensors, I realized she was among the living.

  “Go on,” the ghost said. He nodded toward the door. “Best to get it over with.”

  I let out a long, deep breath and walked in, not at all prepared for the onslaught of spirits wanting my attention.

  The hospital was filled with people, people I wasn’t sure were dead or alive, and they were everywhere. In the halls, standing near the main counter, just inside the doors, if an energy or body could occupy the space, it did. I assumed most of them were deceased, which was confirmed by the fact that the majority of their feet didn’t touch the ground. My blood pressure shot up, and I panicked as they charged me, crowds of them.

  “Can you help me?”

&nbs
p; “Can you see me?”

  “My son. Where’s my son?”

  “Help me. I think I’m dead.”

  “I can’t breathe. Why can’t I breathe?”

  “Is this heaven?”

  “My husband is here, but he won’t talk to me. Why won’t he talk to me?”

  Some of the ghosts made their life situation known within seconds of my entrance. How did they know I could see them? I felt like I’d hopped on a roller coaster filled with flips and spins, and my stomach couldn’t take it.

  My heart raced, my palms were sweaty, and my head throbbed. I didn’t know what to do. They wouldn’t stop, they just kept coming at me.

  “Ma’am, please. My wife, she needs to know.”

  “Why can’t anyone see me? Am I dead?”

  I couldn’t breathe. I backed into a corner, covered my ears, and closed my eyes. “Stop,” I begged them. “Go away. Just leave me alone.”

  “Chantilly, you okay?” Jack held onto my shoulder, his grip tight but comforting.

  I opened my eyes, and tears fell down my face. “I can’t do this. I’m sorry.” I rushed the few feet back to the door and ran outside.

  The man I’d first seen was still there, still smoking his cigarette. “I tried to tell them to leave you alone, but no one listens to me.”

  I stared at him, my eyes wide, my mouth dropped open, and nodded quickly as I rushed away from the door, Jack on my tail.

  “Chantilly, wait,” he yelled. He caught up to me and stopped me with his hand on my shoulder again.

  I whipped around and threw myself at him, crying like a baby and holding onto him for dear life. “It was awful. Just awful.”

  He wrapped his arms around me and held me tight. It was comforting, being in his arms like that, and I allowed myself to sink into him, to let the weight of his chest support me. When I realized the inappropriateness of the hug, I let go, wiped my eyes, and backed away. “Thanks. I’m...I’m fine, really.”

  “What happened in there? Did someone say something to you? Was it about the murders?”

  A woman wearing a blue sweater and tan pants shimmered in behind Jack. I recognized her immediately. Fran, Angela Panther’s mom, smiled at me. “You can do this, Chantilly. I won’t let them bother you.”