Jennifer Fischetto - Dead by the Numbers 01 - One Garish Ghost & Blueberry Peach Jam

by Jennifer Fischetto

  The hairs on the back of my neck salute. “That’s weird.”

  “Yeah, it’s unusual. But from what I found on the family, they lived on a farm in West Virginia, and were like the Amish—no electricity, grew their own food. Maybe she was off the grid until she moved here.”

  That sounds like another world compared to my life.

  “I did, however, discover a twin brother. He was caught for shoplifting at the age of eighteen, so I was able to pull up his mug shot. He did a bit of probation and hasn’t reappeared since.”

  The pages are stuck together, and he’s having an issue prying them apart.

  “Danielle said her family is dead.”

  “I didn’t find any death certificates for anyone. But it wouldn’t surprise me.” He finally manages to separate the pages. “Here, this is Daniel Lewis.”

  I suck in a breath and stare down at Plaid Guy.

  * * *

  I manage to choke down Ma’s fabulous cooking and stay long enough for coffee before I can’t sit still anymore and need to find answers. I don’t think taking Enzo’s discovery to Sanchez will do any good at this point. They didn’t check into Plaid Guy when I told them about him. Will my word that Daniel Lewis is Plaid Guy really change things? And may I point out that naming your twins Daniel and Danielle is just cruel? Anyway, I don’t believe Sanchez takes me seriously.

  But Enzo disagrees. We may all believe Kevin set Izzie up, but Sanchez and the rest of the department are the “good guys,” according to my brother. He can’t be a cop and not fill them in. So while he takes his info to Sanchez, and Sanchez alone, I call Danielle in pretense of getting my next gig.

  “I don’t have anything on the books,” she says.

  “Who is that?” Wesley asks in the background.

  She tells him and protests as he grabs the phone from her.

  “Hey, Gianna. Timothy, Danielle, and I are headed to the beach for a little memorial for Emma. Would you like to join us?”

  “I’m on my way,” I say and get instructions as to exactly where and then hang up. This won’t give me one-on-one time with Danielle, but it’s better than nothing. I’m not sure if I should tell Emma or not, but I decide to at the last second.

  She looks like she might start crying, if she still could, and marches out my door. “Let’s go.”

  On the ride over, I ask, “Did you know Danielle has a twin brother?”

  She shakes her head. “Despite how close Wesley and I were, I don’t know anything about her family.”

  Why doesn’t Danielle talk about them? Why did she tell me they’re dead if they’re not? Then again, I think she just said they’re gone. I assumed she meant dead. Regardless of what she said or didn’t say, why does she want to hide her family?

  We all meet on the beach a block from where her body was found. Timothy is already there on a blanket with a wooden picnic basket.

  I sit beside him, and we smile at one another. I doubt he knew I was coming, but he doesn’t act like my being here is bizarre. Emma sits on the other side of him and stares out at the water. Wesley and Danielle arrive a few minutes later.

  I’m not certain, but it feels like Danielle is giving me the cold shoulder and doesn’t want me here. That makes sense if she knows her brother is involved with Emma’s death. Have they all yet connected the dots and know I’m Izzie’s sister?

  Timothy pulls a couple bottles of apple cider from his basket and opens the first one. He tells Wesley to grab the glasses and Danielle to take out the food.

  She pulls out red pepper hummus, crackers, a block of cheddar cheese, a knife, strawberries, and several packs of Hostess Cupcakes.

  Emma and Timothy smirk. “Those were her favorites,” he says.

  There are only three glasses, but Timothy hands me one and holds the bottle near his chest. He clears his throat and says, “To Emma. You always lived life to the fullest. You loved parties and laughter and snuggling by fires.”

  Wesley smiles, his eyes moist. Danielle squeezes his hand in comfort. She’s a good fiancée. But she’s a terrible person if her brother killed Wesley’s friend and she keeps it a secret from him. Why would Daniel kill Emma though?

  “Emma, you will be sorely missed and never forgotten,” Wesley continues. “I love you.”

  Emma whimpers. She can’t actually cry anymore, but if she were alive, I bet she’d be sobbing.

  A lump the size of a walnut sticks in my throat, and swallowing doesn’t make it go away.

  Wesley raises his glass. “You were a great friend, Emma. I’ll miss you more than you know. And…” He gazes off into the distance, but little does he realize he’s staring right at her, or through her. “You deserved so much more than you gave yourself credit for.”

  Danielle squirms on the blanket and says, “Emma, I wish we could’ve been closer. I’m sorry you’ll miss the wedding.”

  Emma rolls her eyes and laughs. “Leave it to Danielle to make it about her.”

  They all put their glasses or, in Timothy’s case, the bottle to their lips.

  “Wait,” I say.

  They stop and look at me.

  “Sorry, I’d like to say something.”

  Timothy smiles and nods his approval.

  “I didn’t know you well,” I say. “In fact, the first night I met you, I didn’t like you.” I smirk at the memory of her in Paulie’s car. In comparison to where she and I are now, it feels like that clown was a completely different person.

  “But as I got to know you through others,” I add quickly so the three living people around me don’t think I’m crazy, “I’m sorry I didn’t get more time with you. I will miss you.” When you move on.

  She smiles at me. “Thank you.”

  We raise our glasses, Timothy says, “To Emma,” and we drink.

  We spend another hour on the blanket, eating and drinking, and laughing at Emma stories. I don’t get a chance to talk to Danielle alone, and I’m okay with that. There’s always tomorrow. Tonight is Emma’s night.

  * * *

  When we get back to my apartment Billy is standing at the windows, looking down at something outside.

  Emma rushes over to him. “They had a memorial for me. It was awesome. You should’ve come. Everyone said wonderful things about me. It was really sweet, and I didn’t realize how much I meant to Timothy.”

  She turns to me. “It’s a shame I didn’t spend more time with him before I died.”

  I don’t know what to say. I’m better at smart-ass comebacks than heartfelt sentiment. I smile and nod.

  She looks back to Billy. “Got nothing to say?”

  He doesn’t reply so she waves a hand in front of his face.

  “Ghostal plane to Billy. What’s so important?” She follows his gaze. “Oh.”

  “What is it?” I ask, hurrying over to them.

  On the sidewalk across the street is a girl. She’s standing in front of the used clothing store and just staring ahead. Other than passing cars, there’s no one else around.

  “Who is that?” I ask.

  “Maybe Billy’s soul mate?” Emma asks.

  He still doesn’t respond. If that’s true, he must have it bad. It’s hard to make her out from up here, but it looks like she’s petite with dark brown hair and is wearing a really cute jean jacket.

  “So you know her, or this is one of those from afar loves?” I ask.

  Still no response.

  As we watch, the girl turns and heads toward the street. She walks right through a parked car. Whoa! She’s a ghost?

  “Stephanie,” Billy whispers and disappears.

  Stephanie? His mother mentioned that name.

  Suddenly Billy appears outside on the sidewalk by the girl.

  I take off and run down, hoping they’re both still there by the time I make it around to the front and across the street. Too bad I can’t fly.

  A car honks as I dart out in front of it. I’m not that close—don’t know why the driver is so angsty. Although, I
guess a woman running into the street after dark, without stopping or looking or giving any kind of warning, is honk-worthy.

  When I reach the other side, Billy is standing in front of the girl. They’ve stepped back onto the sidewalk closer to the store and are staring at one another. I feel like I’ve walked into the middle of a conversation and missed a lot. But the longer they stare, the more I realize they’re dumbfounded and I haven’t missed a thing. Good, ‘cause I hate being late for a party.

  “I can’t believe I found you,” the girl says. On closer examination she’s adorable—freckles, pixie nose, small bow-shaped lips, and black-rimmed glasses. She looks like one of those American Girl dolls.

  “Found me? You’ve been searching?” Billy says with much sighing. “I didn’t even know you were dead.”

  “Is this Stephanie?” I ask. “Your mom mentioned Stephanie Murdock slipped into a coma and died a few days after you did.”

  The girl nods.

  Billy’s eyes widen, and he stares at me. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I started to, but you said you weren’t close.” In hindsight I should’ve told him then regardless.

  Billy hangs his head.

  Stephanie smiles. “We were starting to be. Or so I thought.”

  Billy looks up into her eyes, eagerness in his. “Yeah, me too. I—I was gonna ask you to go to the movies with me.”

  She smiles. “I would’ve loved that.”

  Emma’s across from me. The four of us form a square. Of course, to the passing cars it looks like I’m standing on the sidewalk mesmerized by the brickwork on the used clothing store.

  “You said you were looking for me?” Billy asks.

  She pushes the glasses up on her face and nods. “After I died I went home. No one was there. They were planning my funeral. I thought I’d disappear right away or at least after they buried me, and I wanted to say bye to you, so I went to your house. I learned you died a couple of days before me.”

  Billy grins. “You know where I live?”

  She bats her lashes. “Remember the time Randy gave you a ride home during the thunderstorm? I was in the backseat.”

  He nods. “That was a crazy night.”

  “Why haven’t you passed on?” I ask Stephanie.

  She looks me up and down as if she’s just realizing I’m standing here. “You’re alive, and you can see me…us?” She glances at Emma too.

  “Yep. I’m special.”

  “She’s awesome,” Billy says. “I’ve been crashing at her place.” He points to the apartment above the deli.

  Aww, I’m awesome. Nice to know I’ll have a favorable reputation with the other side once he moves on.

  “Isn’t that the place where you cross over?” she whispers to Billy.

  “Yeah, but it’s cool. You don’t get sucked in. It’s totally by choice.”

  “Why are you here in this spot now, tonight? And why haven’t you crossed yet?” I ask again.

  She answers, but she’s not looking at me, only at Billy. “When I learned you were dead, I wasn’t sure if you passed yet or not. Something kept pushing me on, telling me to keep looking. I’ve been passing by the deli every night just in case you hadn’t crossed. I almost gave up and moved on yesterday.”

  They beam at one another, all cheesy and cute and very high school. Emma places her hands on her chest and makes an “aw” sound. I’ll admit it’s a touching moment.

  As if Emma and I are invisible, Billy and Stephanie hover to one another. I figure they’ll just get really close. It’s not like they’re solid and can touch each other. But the closer they get, the brighter they become. It must be their souls.

  Swirls of shining white light shimmer off and around them, like a thousand lightning bugs all at once. It’s so mesmerizing I can’t look away. I feel like I’m watching a sci-fi movie.

  Billy slides his hand along her cheek, and starbursts feather from their contact.

  She leans into him, causing fireworks to dance above their heads.

  The more they touch and explore one another, the brighter it becomes. I can barely see their outlines anymore. I take a step back. Emma does the same.

  When they pull apart, they return to normal, and I feel like a voyeur. Boy, I could use a cigarette, even though I don’t smoke. That was powerful.

  “I can move on now,” Stephanie says.

  Billy smiles. “Me too.”

  Oh my God, this is it?

  They float across the street, over to the deli.

  No, wait, I’m not ready for this. I run ahead of them and realize my keys are upstairs. Shoot. I’ll never make it up and back before they’re gone.

  I get in front of Billy. “Stop!”

  The passenger in a passing car stares at me long after they pass.

  Billy looks at me. “What?”

  “I’m so glad you’re ready to move on. I’m glad you’re at peace, but you can’t leave without saying good-bye.” My voice cracks.

  Gosh, I didn’t realize I’d feel this way. Billy’s just a kid, a ghost. I’ve never gotten emotional over ghosts before. I haven’t spent time with many before either.

  “Dude, I’m not leaving without saying adios.”

  I smile, relieved. “Will you wait long enough for me to get the key and see you off?”

  “Of course.”

  I run upstairs with a lump in my throat. I won’t break down. I won’t cry and make this harder.

  Once I’m in the deli, I lock the door behind me—something I’ll be doing a lot from now on—and find my three friendly ghosts by the freezer.

  “I’ll miss you,” I say to Billy. “The first day I saw you I wanted you gone, and now—I just want you happy.”

  He winks at me then Emma. “Thank you for seeing me and letting me stick around as long as I wanted.”

  I didn’t have much choice in that, but I just smile.

  He turns to Emma. “You’re awesome, too. Find out who killed you, and make sure this one doesn’t get into too much trouble.” He nods toward me.

  Emma giggles. “I’ll keep my eye on her. Maybe I’ll see you again when it’s my turn.”

  Billy grins. “Hope so.” He takes Stephanie’s hand. “Ready?”

  She nods.

  I open the freezer door and watch them walk to the far end.

  Billy turns back and waves at us.

  I wait for a magical, intensified moment, but there isn’t one. They walk through the back wall and disappear.

  I look to Emma. “That’s it?”

  “Wow, that’s uneventful,” she agrees.

  I shut the door. “You’re next, but I promise to make it more exciting.”

  “Are you gonna hire trumpets?”

  I head outside and lock up behind me. “No. I’m thinking of hiring a clown.”

  She laughs as we make our way upstairs. Once inside, we both walk to the sofa and plop down. Well, I plop. She sorta just lands.

  I grab the remote, draw my knees up to my chest, and lean my head back against the cushions. “What do you want to watch?” I click the TV on.

  She shrugs. “I don’t know.”

  I start flipping channels, and we spend the rest of the night doing exactly that, a la Billy style.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The next morning I head over to Danielle’s place. According to her driver’s license, she lives in a one-bedroom apartment on Baltic Avenue, over by the train tracks. It’s a small building with only four apartments, two on the first floor and two on the second. Danielle’s is on the bottom right.

  There are no spaces in front of the building, so I have to park a block away. On the walk to her apartment, I notice the area is pretty quiet. There are few cars driving around, and either people are already at work, or a lot of the residences are empty. Honestly, I’m not very fond of this area. If South Shore Beach has a seedy, run-down section, this is it.

  I grip my keys in my hand, positioning the apartment key between my thumb and index fi
nger, ready to use it as a weapon if necessary. Of course, it’s just nine a.m., and how many muggers are waiting for a curvy brunette to walk by?

  When I reach Danielle’s apartment, I climb two steps to her creaky front porch and knock. Her car is parked in a narrow, pebbly strip beside the building, so I know she’s home. But she doesn’t respond, so I take a step to my right and peer in the window. The shades are up, but the sun bounces against the glass pane, creating a prism. I have to look down rather than straight ahead in order to see into the room.

  It’s a small living room. There’s a sheet thrown over the couch, an old box TV on a stand with wheels, and a couple of folding end tables. She definitely hasn’t spent a lot of money on her place. There’s a card table with a couple of chairs in a room to the right, probably the kitchen. A hallway to the left must be the bedroom and bathroom area. Great. But where is she?

  I’m about to knock again when someone walks from the kitchen toward the bedroom. I tap on the window, ready to wave, but when she turns to me, it doesn’t quite look like Danielle.

  Oh my God, is it Daniel?

  Suddenly freaked out that I may be face-to-face with a killer, I turn around and run back to my car. When I get behind the wheel, my hands are trembling. What is wrong with me? I should’ve waited for him to open the door, to demand answers from his sister. She’s there somewhere. But he’s a murderer. At least I think he is, and I’m assuming he’s been hiding out, not wanting to be seen. Otherwise, why would Danielle pretend she has no family?

  I press on the gas and get the heck out of there. I’ll call Enzo and tell him everything as soon as I park. He’s the professional. He’ll know what to do. I’m pretty sure stay out of it will be among his advice.

  I pull into the lot behind the deli, park beside Ma’s car, and dial my brother. It goes straight to voicemail. I leave a message and am about to get out of my car when my cell rings. I don’t recognize the number and answer it.

  “Hello?”

  “Gianna, this is Danielle. Were you just at my place?”

  Crap. She saw me run away like a baby! Does she know her twin is a murderer? “Um, yeah. I thought we’d hang or something. Maybe get lunch?”