by TM Simmons
Dead Man Talking
T. M. Simmons
Copyright © 2004, 2011 by T. M. Simmons,
Originally published by Five Star in conjunction
With Tekno Books and Ed Gorman
Dead Man Haunt Excerpt,
Copyright © 2006 and 2011 by T. M. Simmons
Originally published
By Five Start in conjunction with
Tekno Books and Ed Gorman
New Cover Design by
Angela Rogers, misadvmom at yahoo.com
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This story is a work of fiction. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Excerpt from Dead Man Talking:
“I’m going to get a shower! I’ll be down in a while. Watch Miss Molly for me." I stomped out, glancing around for Trucker. He’d come in with us, but I’d lost him somewhere between there and the kitchen. I peeked in the library — and fear turned me into a statue. I tried to scream, but my vocal cords might as well have been encased in marble, also.
Bucky stumbled around the library in all his undead glory, waving his arms, shirt and bib overalls soaked with blood. He couldn’t see where he was going, of course. Being headless will do that to a person. He staggered against a bookshelf, and it surprised me when a few volumes thumped to the floor. He shouldn’t have been solid enough to do that, but perhaps the books were ready to fall anyway. I suppose he didn’t hear the noise, with no ears, since he ignored it and rambled over to the desk.
Another sound penetrated my senses, although I still couldn’t move. It was the pitter-patter of bare feet racing down the stairwell. Katy dashed up beside me in her nightgown. “Sir Gary said — ohmigod!”
I broke my frozen state to clap a hand over her mouth, but she jerked away. “Sir Gary said there was another ghost down here and it might hurt you! I’ll get Jack.”
She started to rush away, and I grabbed her, nearly tearing her gown off her shoulders. “No,” I whispered furiously. “You know Jack doesn’t believe in ghosts.”
Bucky ambled through the desk, straight at us, and I changed my mind. Especially when Katy shrieked and tore out of my grasp. She raced toward the kitchen, shouting Jack’s name. I dodged the ghost and frantically pawed through my pockets until I found the asafetida and removed the plastic. Now what? I wasn’t about to approach that thing as close as I did Sir Gary.
Bucky stopped at the doorway, then turned and stumbled toward me. Once again my feet failed me. But not my arm. I screamed and threw the asafetida at him. It went through his chest. He didn’t make even a slight noise. Hell, he didn’t have a mouth to say anything with. He just cringed and shuddered — at least that’s the impression I got from his headless body. Then he flew out through the front windows just as Jack raced into the room, gun drawn.
Dedication
To Belle and Terry, especially Belle for being
my own real life Aunt Twila;
Trucker and Miss Molly, for inspiration.
To Brandon and Ransom with hugs and kisses.
Memaw said it would be a real book someday, huh, Ransom?
To all my ghosthunting buddies.
May we have many more happy hunts!