Stalking the Dead

by E. C. Bell

  I watched the cop’s face turn to absolute stone.

  “He’s not being detained,” he said. “He’s just here to answer a few questions.”

  “Gotcha,” Vinnie said. “And you’ve had him here for more than seven hours. It’s time for him to come home with the little missus.”

  “Oh, I’m not—” I started, but the lawyer glared me to silence. Then he turned to the cop, his brilliant smile reappearing as if by magic.

  “If you’re not going to charge him, let him go,” he said. “Right now.”

  “You gotta talk to Officer Tyler,” the cop said, but before Vinnie could respond, he turned away from the desk and walked out of sight around a corner.

  We heard him rap on a door, hard, twice, and then we both tried to eavesdrop on the whispered conversation between the cop and Tyler. Well, I tried to eavesdrop. Vinnie had his phone out and was texting or playing a game on it or something.

  He slipped it into his pocket when the cop returned.

  “Officer Tyler says that Lavall never asked for a lawyer,” the cop said. “So—”

  “So nothing,” Vinnie said, and the smile clicked off like he’d thrown a switch. “I have been retained, and I want to see my client. Now.”

  “Jesus, Vinnie—sorry, Mr. Van Kleif—can’t you just leave this alone?” The cop’s stone face crumbled, and he suddenly looked about twelve. “Officer Tyler will be finished talking—”

  “Interrogating,” Vinnie said. Loudly.

  The cop’s face spasmed. “Officer Tyler will let him go soon. Really.”

  “So, are you saying you’re not going to let me see my client?” Vinnie asked, even more loudly.

  The cop sighed without answering, then turned and walked away. He was positively dragging his feet, and I didn’t blame him. He was caught between a rock and a hard place, and everyone in that cop shop knew it.

  He knocked on the door and had another whispered conversation with Officer Tyler. Then he trudged his way to the desk.

  “Come with me,” he said. “Your client has apparently decided he does want to speak to you.”

  He pushed the buzzer and Vinnie walked inside. I went to follow him, but the cop stopped me with a look.

  “Not you,” he said. “Just the lawyer.”

  I was going to complain, but Vinnie shook his head.

  “We’ll be out in a minute,” he said. “Just wait.”

  So I did what I was told. Hard to believe, but I parked my butt on one of the hard wooden chairs in the entry and twiddled my thumbs as I waited for Vinnie to spring James.

  They were gone a long time. All right, so in reality it was only fifteen minutes, but it felt like forever before I heard that door open.

  “It’s been fun doing business with you, Officer Tyler,” Vinnie said. “And remember. No more ‘conversations’ with my client without me being present.”

  “I’ll remember,” Tyler said. He didn’t sound particularly upset, but when he came around the corner behind Vinnie and an exhausted-looking James, I could see a vein pulsing in his temple and was afraid I was seeing a heart attack in progress.

  “Good,” Vinnie said. “That’s very good.” He turned to James. “You ready to go home, sport?”

  “Yes, I am,” James said. He sounded as exhausted as he looked.

  “You heard the man,” Vinnie said. “Open up and let us out.”

  The cop pushed the buzzer, and Vinnie and James stepped through.

  The cop said to James, “Catch you later.”

  He did have the good grace to look embarrassed when all three of us laughed out loud. Then he pointedly turned his back on us as we walked out of the cop shop and into the fresh evening air.

  “Are you all right?” I asked. “You look kind of horrible.”

  “Thanks,” James said.

  “Sorry,” I said. “Maybe you need something to eat—”

  “No,” James said, and grabbed my arm, turning me around so I was facing him. “I really mean thanks.” He cocked his head at the lawyer, who’d gone back to staring avidly at his phone. “For getting me out of there.”

  “You’re welcome,” I whispered.

  Vinnie looked up from his phone. “All done with the hellos?” he asked. “Because I have to head down to the hospital. There was another accident on Highway 63. Man, I have to tell you, I’m going to cry a river when they finally twin that thing.”

  I didn’t know how to answer, and evidently, neither did James. Vinnie didn’t seem to notice. Just pulled a business card from his wallet and handed it to James.

  “This is for next time,” Vinnie said. “Because I think there’s going to be a next time for you.”

  “Thanks,” James said, but he didn’t sound remotely thankful. He tucked the business card in his pocket. “How much do I owe you?”

  “First one’s free,” Vinnie said, and laughed. “Just like a drug dealer.” He laughed again and shook his head. “No. I owed Sylvie a favour, so this one’s gratis. Tell her we’re square now, ’kay?”

  Before either of us could answer, he jumped into his car and drove away. James and I stood and stared after him, until we lost his taillights to the never-ending rush hour that was Franklin Avenue.

  “Is that guy a friend of your mom’s?” James finally asked.

  “I don’t know if they’re friends,” I said. “But Mom did tell me to call him.”

  “I’ll have to thank her,” James said. “Officer Tyler wasn’t even remotely ready to let me go.”

  “What did he want to know?” I asked.

  “Let’s go to your mom’s,” James said. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. After we eat, I’ll tell you everything. Because I think we need to come up with a game plan, tout de suite.”

  “I could eat,” I said, and handed him the keys. “Let’s go.”

  MOM’S TRAILER WAS dark, but that didn’t surprise me. It was, after all, nearly one in the morning. I personally felt like I’d been beaten with a fairly large stick, and James didn’t look much better.

  Millie the step-on dog was sitting by the door when we went inside. She didn’t bark, just stared at us as though we should know better than to come home so late. Then she turned and walked through the slightly open door of Mom’s bedroom and disappeared.

  Laurel was gone and the TV was off. I hoped against hope that I’d finally get a good night’s sleep, until I saw her dirty white light emanating from Mom’s room, like a dead nightlight, and sighed.

  “There should be something to eat in the fridge,” I said to James. “I want to check on Mom.”

  James nodded and headed for the kitchen as I walked to Mom’s bedroom door. It was open, and all I had to do was walk in, but I hesitated.

  “Are you going to hover around the door all night?” Laurel snapped. “Get in here and say goodnight to your mother, for heaven’s sake.”

  Wow, Laurel was one bossy ghost. I pushed the door open and walked inside.

  Mom looked like a small pile of laundry on the bed. If Millie hadn’t been lying beside her, her eyes glowing weirdly green in Laurel’s ghost light, I would have believed that there was no one in that bed. No one living, anyhow.

  “Mom?” I whispered. No answer, and I felt a catch in my throat. The bedclothes weren’t moving.

  “She’s all right, isn’t she?” I asked.

  “She’s sleeping,” Laurel said. “But it wouldn’t hurt you to say goodnight to her, now would it?”

  I reached out and touched Mom’s head, relieved to feel warmth emanate from the fine white fuzz covering her scalp. She’d taken off her wig. It was sitting on her nightstand, next to a large glass of water. I looked at Laurel.

  “Water?” I asked. “Why?”

  “Say goodnight to her,” Laurel said. So I finally did what I was told.

  “Goodnight, Mom,” I whispered.

  I didn’t think she would have heard me, but she reacted to my voice and opened her eyes.

  “G’dnight, my gi
rl,” she mumbled, then fought with the bedclothes to get her hand free. I helped her and took her hand.

  “How’s James?” she asked.

  “He’s fine,” I said. “We’re going to have something to eat.”

  “Food’s good,” Mom said. And then her hand went limp, and she was asleep. I tucked her hand under the blanket and patted Millie. Then I turned to Laurel.

  “Thanks for being here for her,” I said.

  “The least I can do,” Laurel said. “After all, she did convince Roy to leave me alone.”

  I didn’t know how I felt about that. I’d hoped that Laurel would eventually get tired of hanging out with my mother and return to her husband.

  All right, so he was dead, but still.

  “She handled him so wonderfully,” she continued. “It was almost painless. For both of us.”

  I frowned. That sounded a lot more permanent than taking a timeout from a tiff.

  “You have to go back sometime,” I said. “After all, you can’t stay here forever. You understand that, don’t you?”

  “Of course I understand,” Laurel snapped. “But Roy made a big decision—a huge decision—while he was here, and I need a little more time to come to terms with it before I make any next steps.”

  “What big decision did he make?” I asked. Suddenly, the big glass of water on Mom’s nightstand started to make sense.

  “He moved on,” Laurel said. “I think Sylvie called it moving on to the next plane of existence.”

  Oh my.

  “Mom moved Roy on?” I asked.

  “Didn’t I just say that?” Laurel snapped.

  “Yes—yes, you did. You just surprised me,” I said.

  Shocked the life out of me was closer to the truth, but Laurel’s face softened and she nodded.

  “It was a bit of a surprise to me, too. I thought it was going to be ugly and difficult, like the first time he’d shown up. But Roy said that Arnie character forced him to bring Arnie to you, and how terrible—terrifying it was.

  “‘I’m so sorry, Laurel,’ he said to me. ‘If I’d known what it was like, I never would have done it.’ I believed him. And then we talked about our life—and death—together. We talked—really talked for what felt like the first time in decades—and we both saw that our existence together was a sham.

  “We’d been fighting when we drowned, you see, and when we found ourselves together at that cemetery, well, we both felt so badly that we just carried on with our marriage. Acted like nothing had changed, even though it had. We shouldn’t have.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because we’d been ready to split the sheets before we died,” Laurel said softly. “We had no children, you see. And nothing left in common. But then we died, and, well, here we are. At least, there we were. Until your mother explained to us that just because we’d died together didn’t mean we had to stay together.”

  I couldn’t think of one thing to say to her. Not a single thing. But she didn’t seem to notice. Just stared down at my mother with a sad smile on her face.

  I could understand her feeling sad. I just couldn’t understand why she was still here.

  “So Roy decided to move on,” I said. “And you?”

  “I’ve decided to stay here, to think things through. Oh, and to help your mother, too,” Laurel said. “She helped Roy and me. The least I can do is help her.”

  “Help her what?”

  “Prepare to pass the veil,” Laurel said. “Of course.”

  I didn’t know how to answer that, so I said nothing. Just walked out of the bedroom and carefully shut the door so James and I wouldn’t wake Mom as we busily went about living.

  JAMES HAD TWO sandwiches made and was foraging in the fridge when I walked into the kitchen.

  “What are you looking for?” I asked.

  “Olives,” he said. “Green, if she has them, but I’ll take black if that’s all that’s here.”

  My guess was that Mom’s fridge had never held olives, either green or black, but I didn’t say anything to stop him from searching. Who knows. I had been gone a year. Maybe Mom had developed a taste for that kind of pickle. I didn’t know.

  I poured myself a glass of water and downed it in such huge gulps it sounded like I was drowning. Finished the glass and poured myself another. Downed it, and refilled the glass a third time.

  “You’re thirsty,” James said, rather unnecessarily, I thought.

  “That I am, James,” I said, trying to keep my voice upbeat. “You want a glass?”

  He looked up, surprised. “I guess,” he finally said.

  “What, don’t you drink water?” I asked.

  “Not as a rule, no,” James replied. He closed the fridge and picked up the plate loaded with sandwiches, carrying it over to the tiny kitchen table. “But I guess I can tonight.”

  “You won’t be sorry,” I said, and poured him a glass.

  The sandwiches were heavenly, and I decided that, if and when we ever returned to Edmonton, he would be the cook for our little crew of two.

  The water didn’t go over quite as well. James sipped it, twice, then pushed the glass away.

  “Come on,” I said. “Water’s good for you. See? Look at me.”

  I took a sip and swallowed. Or tried to. For some reason, the water decided that going down my windpipe was a much better plan, and I choked, spewing water all over the table and myself. Luckily, I didn’t hit James with much, but still, he didn’t look terrifically amused.

  “Sorry,” I said, when I finally got everything wiped up and off of—it seemed—everywhere. “Don’t know what happened there.”

  “Now you see why I stay away from water,” James said, and almost smiled. “That stuff can kill you.”

  “Ha ha.”

  All right, so not the best response, but my throat and nose still hurt from all the water.

  “Did I thank you for getting that lawyer to rattle the cops’ cage?” James asked. “If I didn’t, I should. I figure I’d still be there if you hadn’t shown up with him.”

  “You did, but hey, you’re welcome again,” I said. “I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it since you hadn’t done anything wrong, but man! They had you a long time!”

  “Too long,” he said, and frowned. “I hope I didn’t say anything wrong in there.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It started off pretty much the same as last time.” He pushed his half-eaten sandwich aside. “But then he focused on the time I got into town. The exact time. Oh, and if I went anywhere but your mother’s trailer.” He sighed and sounded so exhausted, I reached over and patted his hand.

  “But you told him all that yesterday. Maybe he was just confirming. I bet you’re off the hook now. Right?”

  “I don’t know. There was something about the way he asked those questions—it felt like he had a witness who could put me at the scene. He kept pushing me to say ‘I don’t remember,’ or ‘Maybe.’” He shook his head. “It was when he was talking to me about when I got into town. He wouldn’t let up on it. Like I’d said something different yesterday.” He shook his head again, grabbed the glass of water, and took a big slug before grimacing and pushing it away. “I don’t think I did, but now I can’t be sure. I can’t be sure of anything, anymore.”

  “Don’t think that way,” I said. “You’re just tired, and Tyler was working his interrogation whammy on you. He’s good at that. Besides, I think I have some information that’ll help.”

  “Really?” James almost smiled and relaxed a titch. “You went back and talked to that bartender, didn’t you? At the Blue Pig Special, or whatever that bar was called?”

  “It was the Blue Ox Inn, and yeah, I did,” I said. I worked hard to keep a sunny “everything’s just wonderful” look on my face. “He wasn’t too happy to see me, I must admit. In fact, none of the people in that bar were.”

  “Why?”

  “Because this is a small town,” I said. The sunny smile fell off my face
like the bad mask it was. “A lot of the guys who hang out in that bar were friends with Arnie. Almost all of them, in fact.”

  “Oh.” James frowned. “You should have waited for me.”

  “Couldn’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you were in jail at the time. Remember?”

  “Oh, yeah.” He mentally chewed on that for a moment, then looked at me. “So,” he said, “you talked to the bartender.”

  “I sure did!” I said, and forced my smile back on my face.

  “What did you find out?”

  “He told me that a guy who had a drink with Arnie followed him into the parking lot when he left. So, I found the guy and talked to him, and he said he watched Arnie get into a Sunfire. Blue, he said. And the person behind the wheel was a woman. Dark-haired.”

  “Huh.” James said. “An actual lead.” The look of relief on his face was something to see. “Will this guy come forward and tell the cops what he saw?”

  My smile froze. “He can’t exactly do that,” I said.

  “Why not?”

  “Because he’s dead.”

  James stared at me for a long moment. “Are you being serious with me?” he finally asked. “The one person you’ve talked to who has any information at all about Arnie Stillwell’s last night on earth is dead?”

  “Yep. That’s about it.”

  A strange look came over his face. “How many dead people do you meet in an average day?”

  “Oh, it’s not like that.” I felt my face stiffen, and knew if I didn’t watch it, my voice was going to take on that angry timbre it usually did when I spoke about ghosts. “It just so happened that the kid—I don’t think he was any more than eighteen—rolled his truck on Highway 63 the same night that Arnie was killed, and I met him on my way into town. When the bartender told me he saw the kid with Arnie, I recognized his name. I went to see if I could find him, and I did. That’s all.”

  The angry, defensive tone was still my voice. I could hear it. I reached for my glass of water and took a tentative sip. Luckily, I didn’t choke myself this time, and it helped calm me.

  “Rosalie, the girl who bailed Arnie out, is a brunette,” I said.

  “How did you find that out?” James asked.