I slapped my forehead and shook my head. Lee’s mouth tightened in a sharp line and her eyes narrowed. As she darted away from the desk, she wheezed, “If I wasn’t running and you weren’t dead, I’d smack you.”
“Oh my, this looks like fun,” a voice trilled, followed by a high-pitched giggle.
“Faye.” I smiled and twirled to face her. “I’m actually happy to see you.”
Shadow made a rude noise.
Lee skidded around the corner, leaving the reception area, and headed down another wide corridor that was an open office space, cluttered with desks and shelves full of files and law books.
“A little help…” she said to the small mob of ghosts chatting around her.
“Did I miss the party, honey bunch?” Faye chirped. “And more to the point, did you miss me?”
“Well,” I said, just as the two cowboys veered into the corridor.
“I was talking to Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome,” Faye interrupted, her eyelashes fluttering.
“Lucky me,” Shadow said, his dark face looking darker.
Lee darted to one side and into a small kitchen with an entrance on either end, linking two parts of the office. She slammed shut the door she’d just gone through and locked it. A second later, two sets of thumping fists were banging on it. Breathing heavily, she paused for a moment and glared at the three of us floating around her.
“Is this your poltergeist friend?” she demanded, pointing at Faye. “Because I could sure use some help.” She continued running through the kitchen and out the other door.
“She can see us?” Faye asked, her big blue eyes even bigger. “And she’s not drunk or a baby. Amazing.”
“Could you… you know… deal with those two?” I gestured to the two cowboys who had finally broken through the door’s flimsy lock.
Faye grinned, and for a second, I pitied the cowboys; it was a very short second. “My pleasure, sugar pie.”
As Shadow and I followed Lee, we could hear all the kitchen drawers being flung open simultaneously and what sounded like a lot of cutlery clanging together before Faye shouted, “Charge,” followed by sounds of panic and sheer terror.
“I think you may have time to catch an elevator now,” Shadow said with a smirk as we approached the reception again. “Faye is really an impressive poltergeist.” Then, realising what he’d just said, he fixed a cool and dangerous gaze on me and almost whispered, “And if you ever, ever tell her or anyone else I said that, I will make you wish you could die again.”
“Hurry up,” Lee said as she hit the button several times, in case the first time didn’t register.
I glanced around. By the sounds of it, Faye was still keeping the cowboys busy, but that wasn’t what bothered me. “The audit. We still need to get a copy.”
A cheerful ting announced the elevator’s arrival. As the doors swished open, Lee said, “I have an idea.” Or at least, she started to say that, but she was interrupted by the thing that oozed out of the elevator.
At first glance, I thought it was a cross between Shadow and Bob, and sent up a mental word of thanks that the two couldn’t actually have any offspring. Then the shape elongated into a familiar form.
“The third cowboy,” Shadow and I gasped together.
Lee started to run towards the stairs.
“Lee, it can’t hurt you,” Shadow said. “Get in the elevator. Go to The Ghost Post.”
The dark cowboy’s featureless face stared at us, its head swivelling back and forth as if it was trying to decide which ghost to eat first. Her eyes wide and one hand clenched tight over her chest, Lee sidled around behind it and jumped into the elevator.
“Wasn’t that thing at the cemetery?” she asked as she pressed the ‘ground’ button repeatedly, her forehead scrunched up in a tangle of lines and knots.
“Yup,” I said as I eased backwards, wondering when the thing would attack and why it was so slow about it.
The doors slid closed and Lee was gone.
“Now what?” I asked as we floated away from the third cowboy who crept towards us.
“I’m not really sure.”
“If it’s already caught a ghost,” I continued as I floated through the receptionist’s desk, “does it still want to catch us?”
Shadow shrugged his shoulders as his eyes twitched. “I don’t really know.”
“You’re informative.”
“Hey, why don’t you ask it?” he demanded, gesturing at the approaching cowboy.
The cowboy tilted its head, its shadow hat leaning to the side, as if it was studying us and wondering what it should do. I don’t know if it was about to answer or even if it could, because at that moment, two living but scared-to-death cowboys came screaming around the corner, followed by a small army of kitchen utensils, including a heavy looking marble rolling pin, and a Shirley Temple look-alike zipping above, hooting and cheering on the troops.
The cowboys smacked through their invisible and already dead partner. The shadowy form blurred and fragmented into several shards of shadow. Before it could fully reform, Shadow and I zoomed away from the thing and towards Faye.
“Aw, is the party over?” she asked with a pout.
“Yup,” I said. I glanced at the deathmark; it had reformed and was lurching towards us. I aimed for the glass wall and our new exit. This time, we would not be using the lobby. “Time to break some habits and fly.”
“Breaking habits like façades?” Faye asked, her smile wide and hopeful.
“Nope.”
“Oh.” Faye reluctantly followed us out the window. “But it’s a sure fire pity about leaving so soon. I was just getting to the best part.”
While we flew to The Ghost Post, she explained in graphic and minute detail what she had been planning to do. By the end of her description, Shadow was smiling, a wicked light beaming in his eyes, and I found myself in the unbelievable position of actually agreeing with Faye: it really was a sure fire pity we had to leave so soon.
A Woman Scorned
“We have to visit Mrs. Perkins,” Lee told us once we’d met up at The Ghost Post and caught up with each other’s stories. Bob, DD and Timmy nodded in agreement, having listened to the whole drama. Shadow had, of course, disappeared.
“You sure that’s a good idea?” I asked, folding my arms over my chest. “She’s his wife. Why’d she help us? And maybe he doesn’t have a copy of the audit at home. Plus it’s kinda late to be knocking.”
Lee waved the objections away and then extracted herself from her work overalls, revealing her black Chinese pyjamas underneath. “It’s a good idea because it’s our only idea. She’ll help us once she find out he’s been cheating on her.”
“He has?” I asked.
“The fiend,” Bob said in an outraged tone.
“He may not have a copy at home,” she continued, ignoring the interruption, “but I bet she’ll have some idea of where a copy would be and how to get it. And it’s barely eight at night. She should still be awake.”
“Huh,” I said, impressed.
“Indeed,” Bob added. “Here, here, dear lady.”
“What if Perkins is there?” DD asked.
“He won’t be,” I said. “He’s at a business dinner, being busy.”
Lee scoffed. “You mean creating an alibi for himself. Who’s with me? Axe?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Oh, me, pick me, pick me!” Faye waved her hand and bounced around the room like a kangaroo on sugar. Lots of sugar.
“Well, I guess that settles it,” DD said, her frog-like eyes blinking slowly. “Have fun interrogating Mrs. Perkins.”
We rode the bus to Shaughnessy, one of the more affluent residential areas of Vancouver. Majestic mansions stared down their landscaped driveways and manicured gardens with a snooty air as the three of us walked and floated along a sidewalk that normally only felt the rubber and heels from top brand name footwear.
“Here we are.” Lee stopped at the entrance to one of the l
ong driveways leading up to a grand old house.
“So this is how the big boys live,” I said.
“Yippee!” Faye twirled through the manicured gardens, her thick blond curls flipping around.
“Did we have to bring her?” I murmured. I owed her for helping save Lee. I hated that (owing Faye, not saving Lee).
“Play nice,” Lee warned me.
When Lee rang the doorbell, I fully expected a butler, English accent, penguin suite and all, to appear at the entrance. So my eyebrows rose when a distinguished lady, her short hair in a tight perm, answered the door, opening it with her very own hands.
“Mrs. Perkins, I’m Ms. Chan. What a pleasure to finally meet you!” Lee enthused, shaking the startled lady’s hand and pushing herself through the door. “Do you have a minute? I really need to discuss something with you. My, what a lovely house you have.”
Lee looked around admiringly, taking in the chandelier, the art scattered over and on almost every surface and the Persian carpets casually thrown around on the floor.
“Well, I…” Mrs. Perkins followed Lee into the foyer and looked her up and down, taking in the black Kung Fu suite and the hiking boots that were almost as old as some of the antiques on a nearby shelf.
“It’s about your husband. It’s critical we talk.”
Mrs. Perkins gasped. “Is he all right? What…”
“Let’s sit. Shall we?” Lee smiled winningly.
“Of course,” the lady said in a shaking voice. She led the way through an arch and into an ornately decorated living room. “Please, won’t you sit here?” She gestured with an elegant wave of a hand.
That’s when I noticed the colour of Mrs. Perkins’ palms. “What’s with that?” I asked as Lee sat on the overstuffed, overpriced sofa. I knew it was something obvious, but I couldn’t quite remember.
“Orange skin from the Carrot Juice Diet,” Faye noted, nodding her head approvingly. “A nice touch. Although it clashes with the purplish tint in her hair.”
“But it kinda goes with the bright blue blouse,” I observed. “Very tony.”
“Tony?”
“Stylish. It’s Lee’s word of the week.”
“Oooo!” Faye trilled, clapping her hands. “I love it.”
“Tea or coffee?” Mrs. Perkins politely asked. She sat straight, shoulders back, hands folded neatly in her lap. She looked like a poster for a finishing school. I figured she’d probably been to one. No one sat like that naturally.
“But her blouse doesn’t match the red skirt, no matter what the brand name is,” Faye pointed out with a shake of her head. “And that length and style of skirt is so ‘old lady.’”
“Tea, please,” Lee answered, rubbing one of her ears, in a clear effort to ignore the ghost conversation going on above her head.
Mrs. Perkins rang a little silver bell and a maid came running out of nowhere. “Tina, tea, if you please.”
“Then again,” I mused, “she is an old lady, so why shouldn’t she wear that?”
Faye rolled her eyes. “You may have to grow old, but you don’t have to grow unfashionable.”
“I love your fashion,” Lee said loudly and reddened as Mrs. Perkins stared at her. “I mean your fashion sense. You stay with the fashion. Like diets, for example.”
“Smooth, Lee, real smooth,” I said, clapping my hands at her.
“Yes,” Mrs. Perkins responded slowly. “I suppose I do. But of course, it’s my husband who promotes these lifestyle changes.”
“Yeah, he sure does,” I agreed.
“Death is a definite lifestyle change,” Faye added and then went hurtling around the room in a fit of giggles.
Lee smiled through gritted teeth. “I’m sure you had a role in that.”
Mrs. Perkins allowed herself the smallest of smiles, modest but knowing. “Well, I don’t like to boast, of course. Just between you and me though, I’m the one who keeps him up-to-date about the latest diets. He motivates everyone to follow. We make a great team, don’t you think?”
“Absolutely.” Lee nodded, her expression serious, her eyes fixed on Mrs. Perkins rather than the poltergeist who was threatening to push a statue off its pedestal.
“But what is it you wanted to talk with me about?”
“I’m not sure how to break this to you,” Lee said and coughed delicately. The tea arrived just then. There was silence while Tina the maid set down the tea tray and left, discreetly closing the door behind her.
“I bet Tina is going to stand right behind there, listening,” Faye said. “I like her already.”
Lee slurped down half a cup in one gulp, while Mrs. Perkins took a prim sip. Lee continued. “It’s just that I have reason to believe your husband might be…” She paused dramatically and leaned forward towards a wide-eyed hostess. She whispered, “Addicted to MSG.”
There was silence. Mrs. Perkins held her teacup just under her quivering mouth, as if unsure if she should drink it or cry into it. Eventually, she decided on the former. “That is ridiculous. My husband is dedicated to improving his health and longevity…”
“But not for others,” Faye interrupted.
“…and is an upstanding citizen.”
Lee placed her now empty cup down. “One of my colleagues, who unfortunately was unable to join us…”
“Because he’s dead,” I added. I wondered what Mrs. Perkins would say if she could see or hear Faye and me.
“…observed Mr. Perkins pouring MSG into his drink. In addition, he eats a lot of Chinese food.” She paused, and then repeated, “A lot. But if you want proof, just look at the palms of his hands. They’re pretty pale.”
Mrs. Perkins continued to stare at Lee. Slowly, she lowered her cup onto its delicate, gold-bordered saucer. She sniffed and said in a quiet voice, “You’re right. I had noticed that before, but… I am so disappointed.”
Tears leaked down her face, streaking her make-up and powder, and then her shoulders slouched forward and she began to sob.
“MSG is hardly up there with cocaine, Mrs. Perkins,” Lee said, her voice soothing, but she glanced at me with wide eyes and mouthed, ‘Oh, for Pete’s sake.’ Lee looked for a tissue or napkin. There was only delicately embroidered linen serviettes, so she grabbed one and handed it over.
“Not about that,” the near hysterical woman wailed as she wiped her face, leaving the piece of linen with streaks of mascara. Mrs. Perkins spoke in between gasps. “Well, maybe a bit. I mean… how thoroughly humiliating… my husband addicted to MSG… If he’s going to get addicted to something… it should be something a bit more… sophisticated and… and socially acceptable.” She suddenly sat upright and she a finger. “I know several of our neighbours who are addicted to cocaine, but MSG? It’s so… so vulgar and common.”
“She’s weirder than CEO Perkins is,” I said in awe.
“Yeah,” Faye nodded. “I like her.”
Lee glanced sideways at me with a small frown and asked, “So what’s disappointed you?”
“Well, I was murdered recently,” I answered.
“Not you,” Lee said under her breath.
“And he’s not as good-looking as his friend,” Faye added dreamily.
Fortunately Mrs. Perkins was too self-absorbed to notice Lee’s other conversation. “He broke our diet.” She sobbed and blew her nose noisily into the serviette. “I should’ve known though. He doesn’t have orange palms, now does he? No! He blamed it on his metabolism. I’m such a fool. What a betrayal. He promised me we’d be in this diet together.”
“What, the no MSG diet?” Lee asked.
“The Carrot Juice Diet,” Mrs. Perkins said with a sniff and a pout. “It’s the latest craze. Everyone’s following it.” She waved her arms grandly, as if to encompass all seven billion human inhabitants. “It’s THE diet, guaranteed to take off weight.”
“And brain cells,” Faye giggled as she floated above the distraught lady and imitated her flailing arm gestures.
“Yeah, no kidding it’s
guaranteed,” I said with a smirk. “Near starvation is a sure-fire way to take off any flab.”
Lee gritted her teeth while keeping her eyes on her host. “Bloody pests.”
Mrs. Perkins looked up, confused. “What?”
“Oh, there’s a few annoying, stupid, little flies in the room,” Lee answered as she waved a hand around, aiming for my head. “In addition to the diet issue, there’s something else I wanted to discuss. About the law firm’s financial dealings.” She pulled out my piece of stolen litter. “I want to check this against the final version. I have reason to believe that Mr. Perkins is involved with activities that are a bit more serious than breaking a diet.”
“Yeah, like murder,” I said.
“And a bad choice of friends,” Faye said and shook her head in mock dismay.
Mrs. Perkins didn’t look concerned about this issue. “I don’t get involved in my husband’s business. Just his diets and social dealings and…” Her face wobbled like it was about to fall off, but she took a deep breath and sat up straight. “And now it seems I can’t trust him with any of it.”
“Seriously? How can she be this upset about the diet and MSG thing?” I asked sceptically.
Lee shrugged her shoulders slightly, while Faye shook her head. “When it’s all you have, you get pretty attached to it,” the poltergeist explained.
“Why, Faye,” I exclaimed, “I had no idea you were such a philosopher.”
Mrs. Perkins continued. “What else is he lying to me about? I mean, if I can’t trust him on this issue, what other promises could he be breaking? Maybe those rumours about his secretary were true. In fact, I’m sure they’re true. He’s been cheating on me in all areas of our life.” She sobbed and blew noisily into the linen.
“An excellent observation, Mrs. Perkins,” Lee said. “Once a promise-breaker, always a promise-breaker.”
“You’re so right.” Mrs. Perkins cried a bit more.
“If you can’t trust him with one thing, then you can’t trust him with anything.”
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