Two Ghosts & a Love Song (Dead by the Numbers Mysteries Book 2)

by Jennifer Fischetto

  "Who are you going with?" My stomach knots. If these two made up and became actual friends, I may upchuck the good bits of chicken.

  "Does it matter?"

  I put my plate into my lap. "Since you're acting all mysterious, it does."

  "Fine. I'm going with Julian." He takes a swig of beer.

  Wait. What? "My Julian?"

  He arches a brow. "I didn't know he belonged to you but yes."

  While the nausea and fear fades, confusion takes its place. "Since when have you two become so close?"

  Enzo shrugs. "It just kinda happened. We got to talking about sports at Sunday dinners."

  Every Sunday, Ma insists the whole family gets together for dinner. It's been a tradition forever. Ever since Julian's moved to town, she invites him too. I always end up being surprised he's there. I guess I should get used to it. And yeah, I've seen him and Enzo chatting, but it never dawned on me that they were scheduling playdates.

  "Is this going to be a problem?" Enzo asks.

  I sulk for half a second. I have one sibling left to hang with, and he has a date with my…what is Julian to me? "No, it's fine. I hope you guys have fun."

  "What's with you two, by the way? First you're pissed he moved here, and then you seemed close and now… What?"

  I can't tell Enzo about Julian's job and how much it pains me, but I hate lying to him too, so I say, "It's complicated." That's exactly the status I chose on my Facebook profile too.

  I unscrew the top off the bottle of French, drizzle some on my lettuce, and change the subject. "So, that explosion. Do you know what it was?"

  Enzo reaches for a thigh. It works out great because he likes the dark pieces of chicken while I prefer the white. "Yeah, it was a homemade bomb in a box of flowers."

  Whoa. "Seriously?"

  "And they can't find out who delivered them. It wasn't any of the local shops."

  The hairs on the back of my neck rise. That's even more interesting than Ma's crazy cyanide giving fiancée. "Who lived there?"

  "A woman named Serena Tate. Why? Did you know her?"

  I shake my head. "Just curious. It was so close to the deli, everything in my apartment shook. When I got there it was so unreal."

  "You went to the explosion? Doesn't a loud bang, smoke, and fire suggest you stay away?"

  I roll my eyes. "Everyone was running there."

  He widens his brown eyes. "So if everyone jumps off a bridge…"

  I hold up a hand. "Okay, I get it. I was just curious. Geesh. What's the big deal?"

  "The big deal is that you almost died last week when confronting a killer. I kinda don't want to be the youngest."

  My heart swells with feelings. "Aww, you worry about me."

  "Yeah, 'cause you don't think and do some crazy stuff."

  Well that mushiness ended quickly.

  "I am not involved with the explosion or anyone who lived there. So, was this Serena woman home?"

  "No, but her fiancé was."

  Oh crap. That's awful.

  He sucks down the rest of his beer and gets up. "Need another?" he asks before looking at the table. I hadn't even opened mine yet. He wanders off.

  When he gets back, I ask, "So can you find out who lives at an address for me?"

  He cocks his head. "This is why you're really here, huh?"

  I laugh. "Why are you so suspicious?"

  "Well, I would think you're here to scare me, but since you haven't moved from that spot, there must be another reason."

  I shake my head. Brothers are so silly. Oh, I have every intention of scaring him but when he least suspects it. "No. I wanted dinner with you because I owe you for last night and because I hate sitting at my place alone."

  "You need friends."

  Tell me about it.

  "But I'm also curious about this woman who lives at six-oh-nine Ventura Avenue."

  "Why?"

  "Do I need to tell you that?"

  He stops chewing and stares at me. "This is one of those ghost things, huh?"

  When I don't respond, he asks, "Does it have to do with someone who recently died? An open case?"

  "No." I love when I don't have to lie.

  He nods. "Fine. I'll look into it."

  I squeal and get back to my chicken. Sometimes brothers are cool.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  I leave Enzo's, and instead of going home, I head back to the woman's house. Yes, I am a dog with a bone. Hopefully Enzo will have concrete answers for me as to who she is soon. I don't bother parking in front of her house because it's still dark inside. I have a feeling no one's been home since I last visited. There's no sense in staying and waiting.

  Next, I drive to the explosion house in hopes of spotting Freezer Dude. I don't know what I'll do when I find him though. Tea and scones are out of the question. Plus, I'm more of a coffee girl.

  I park across from the waterlogged, ashy, burnt shell and can't believe this used to be someone's home. It doesn't look much different than earlier, except it's dark out, and everything that's still standing inside looks blacker. It's hard to make out the details, and the entire property is roped off with yellow crime scene tape. Not that that could stop me from walking under it, but I don't have a lot of desire to trample around in the dark.

  I sit there for a while, just staring at the debris and thinking about the day. What does Freezer Dude want? Why was he here earlier? That's the question that baffles me the most. I get coming back to the land of living because…well, who wouldn't? There have to be several reasons, like leaving behind loved ones or maybe wanting revenge for why you're dead. But showing up at an explosion? He couldn't have had something to do with it. He can't pick up a daisy, let alone assemble a bomb. Was he simply in the area and heard the ruckus, or is he following me?

  A trio of chills, one after the other, slither down my back and cause me to shiver. I don't mind helping deadies. I do mind the creepy ones though.

  Just as I'm about to start the car and go home, I notice movement in the rubble. I stare hard in the area that used to be the living room, but I don't see anything. What was that?

  I squint to try to zoom in.

  There it is again. Something moves, but I can't make out what it is. In my attempt to turn and get a better angle, I lean on the horn and blast my heart into overdrive. Shoot!

  The thing across the street moves again and again, until it glides out of the rubble and onto the front yard. The streetlamp illuminates its shape. Its figure. Its face.

  Oh my god, it's a man. No. I can see part of the front door through him. He's a ghost.

  I fling open my door and run over to him. "Hey."

  Up close, it's obvious he was a part of the explosion. Soot and ash is caked onto his skin and what's left of his clothes. They look like they used to be pants and a jacket. Perhaps a suit. His hair is brown or burnt. I can't tell.

  "Are you okay?" Stupid alert, Gi. Try again. "Who are you?"

  He sways and frowns at me, edging closer to where I'm standing on the sidewalk. "What happened?" He shouts so loud, I flinch. Is he hard of hearing? Or is it a residual effect from the bomb? But he's a ghost, so how much residual can there be? Deadies don't have the same abilities as when they were living. No need to eat, sleep, or use the bathroom.

  "Do you remember anything that happened to you?" I step as close as I can without ducking under the crime scene tape.

  He looks back at the house. "I-I came to see her. We're getting married."

  Poor guy. He seems so disoriented. I never dealt with a deadie who didn't know they were dead. This just sucks!

  He stares at me, wide-eyed. "Do you know Serena? I have to find her, to save her."

  "She's okay." I think. I hope. "But you're not."

  Might as well yank off the Band-Aid fast, right? So I go in for the kill. No pun intended.

  "You're dead."

  * * *

  I finally manage to convince him that he is in fact a ghost and that he should come home with me
. At least long enough for us to chat. I don't want anyone to drive by or look out their window and see me standing there talking to the burnt house.

  I toss my keys on the breakfast bar and sit on the couch to take off my sneakers. The ghost hovers near the front door. My apartment isn't very big. One stretch of the neck takes you from the three front windows to the funky teal tile backsplash above the sink. A bedroom large enough for a full-sized bed, two small end tables, a half-dresser, and a bathroom without a tub completes the apartment. It's a good thing I'm not a woman who loves clothes, because I'd have to hang hooks from the ceiling in addition to the little closet space there is. But I'm not complaining. I love this place. It's my first time living alone.

  "You can enter." I get back up and toss my sneakers into my room. One smacks against the wall. I go to the cabinet beside the fridge and take down a glass then grab the bottle of white wine from beside the toaster oven. Yes, I am the woman who keeps her liquor out on the counter. But only because the kitchenette lacks adequate cabinetry.

  "I'd offer you a drink. I'm sure you could use one." When I turn around, he's hovering by the breakfast bar. That's a start.

  "I'm Gianna Mancini. What's your name?"

  It takes him a few seconds, but he finally looks me in the eye and stands a bit taller. "Thomas Sterling."

  "Nice to meet you Thomas…" My mind does a double take. "Wait, Sterling like the automotive Sterlings?"

  He nods. "Yes, that is my family."

  Whoa! I take a step back and bump into the sink. They're loaded. I'm talking Daddy Warbucks style. And one of them is dead in my living room. If I was a less scrupulous person, I'd consider holding his ghost for ransom and seeing how much they'd pay for the family secrets. But that thought would never enter my mind.

  "So Thomas, can you tell me what you remember?" I walk around the breakfast bar and pull out a stool.

  He's just inches away, and I get a whiff of charred flesh. That's odd. I've never been able to smell a ghost before.

  "Wait, can you change?" I point at him and twirl my finger in front of him.

  His brows pucker. "I don't think so."

  Silly me for not explaining fully. I forget that while this isn't my first rodeo, this is his first time being dead.

  "No, you can. Other ghosts have. I'm just asking you to."

  His eyes widen, and then he turns his head and looks around the room. "You've seen other ghosts?"

  "Yes, but they aren't here now. They've crossed over. To the other side. Where you'll go."

  His reaction goes from surprised to horrified the longer I speak, so I guess I should shut up for a minute and give him time to process.

  "I have to see Serena before I leave."

  Well, at least he's not trying to hang around. That's a good sign. I nod. "Sure. But first." I twirl my finger again.

  "Oh, right. How?"

  Hmm, I never asked my last set of ghosts. "Not exactly sure, but I believe you just think of yourself during another day, like how you look when you're just hanging out at home."

  He shuts his eyes. His face is serene. He doesn't look like he's straining. But suddenly the soot and charred bits are gone, and he looks like he took a very long shower. His hair is brown and side-parted. He has a pale complexion, and when he opens his eyes, they are blue-green. There's a baby chubbiness to his cheeks, something he should've outgrown years ago but never did. My guess is that he's in his mid thirties.

  I gaze down at his clothes and push up a brow. This is his idea of relaxing at home casual?

  He's wearing a white button down and white tie beneath a black tuxedo complete with tails.

  I cock my head to the side. "What exactly do you do for relaxation?"

  He glances down and smiles. "I don't have a lot of down time. I wore this the night I proposed to Serena."

  Aww, sweet.

  "So tell me what you last remember." I sip my wine.

  He glances to the door. "I really think we should find Serena. I want to make sure she's fine."

  "I'm sure she is."

  "But how do you know that?"

  "My brother's a cop. He told me how she lived there, but her fiancé was the one who was in the explosion."

  He grimaces.

  "If she'd been hurt, he would've mentioned it."

  He widens his eyes until they look as round as his cheeks. "That's it? You don't know for certain."

  "Well, no, but—"

  He turns and heads for the door. "I will find her myself."

  "Wait," I shout and jump off the stool, sloshing wine on my hand. "You probably haven't heard yet, but the freezer downstairs is the portal to the other side." Although technically there is no freezer at the moment.

  His frown is deep. "That's absurd."

  Tell me about it.

  "I'm not going anywhere until I make sure Serena is okay and until I tell her how much I love her." He steps forward and walks through my door.

  "How will you do that? You're dead."

  He pushes his head back through and only his head. It seems to just float right smack dab in the middle there. Oh boy, and I thought the nightmares about Freezer Dude were bad. Add in this and I'll look like the Bride of Frankenstein in the morning.

  "You have a point," he says.

  I set my glass down and sigh. "I can help but…"

  He pushes his whole body through, and my brain stops screaming. "What do you want in return?"

  I smile. "We find her. I somehow tell her you love her. And then you move on to the other side. You get peace."

  He thinks for three seconds and says, "Agree."

  That wasn't too difficult.

  * * *

  Thomas points out the passenger window. "There. That's where her friend Zoe lives."

  Coincidentally, the apartment complex is only a few blocks away from Julian's. It has the same setup too. A set of stone steps lead to a veranda of sorts with four doors that separate the building into four sections. They're called garden-style apartments although there isn't a garden anywhere in sight. It's across the street from the boardwalk. And in between the two is a wide, two-way street with parking spaces as a median.

  "I really don't want to knock on a stranger's door unless we know Serena is there. Do you see her car?" I drive slowly past the cars, then turn around and come the other way.

  "No, Serena drives a brown hatchback. It isn't here, and neither is Zoe's."

  Great. I was hoping this would be a quick excursion. I pull into an empty space while we figure out where else to look. "Maybe they're someplace together."

  "Where?" He sounds frustrated already. He's obviously never been on a stakeout.

  "I don't know either of them, so I can't say. But you do. Where does Serena go when she's upset?" I already called Enzo to make sure she hadn't been injured and wasn't at the hospital. He said no. The detectives had questioned her briefly, but Enzo wasn't sure where, and he couldn't find out until tomorrow. If he found out. He was a bit miffed that I disturbed his beauty sleep to grill him. I didn't bother mentioning Thomas the Tuxedo Ghost was beside me in my car. I planned to have him outta here by time Enzo woke tomorrow.

  "She'd visit Zoe. She doesn't have any other friends."

  "What about family?" I'm certainly not going to knock a girl for only having one friend. I have none if you don't include my siblings, although in my defense, I did just move back to town less than a month ago.

  "There's a sister, but they aren't close, and she lives upstate," Thomas says. "Serena's a private person. She doesn't let many people in."

  I understand that. I can be a blabbermouth, but when it comes to the deadies, I'm pretty tight-lipped. Most people don't want to know that there are ghosts wandering about, standing beside them while they check out the melons in the produce section or sitting next to them while eating their Frosted Flakes.

  "Then perhaps she's on the boardwalk or the beach," I say. That's where I'd go if I was grieving and didn't want to be around people.
r />   "Maybe," he whispers but doesn't sound convinced.

  "Is she a drinker? Maybe she's at a bar drowning her sorrows."

  He seems to contemplate this. "She doesn't drink. She works in a nightclub-slash-restaurant though. Sparks. That may be where Zoe is now. She works there too."

  I put my car in reverse. "Okay, so where is this club?"

  He shakes his head. "I doubt she's grieving there. Her boss isn't happy with her."

  My internal radar begins beeping. Maybe the boss is responsible for the bomb. "Why?"

  He's staring out his side window and finally faces me. "She was quitting. She gave her two-week notice, and her boss wasn't pleased. Serena was her favorite server, so I don't think she'd go there."

  Yeah, that doesn't sound right. I think harder. "What about your family?"

  His eyes widen, and panic leaps onto his face. "Oh, no."

  I want to ask why, simply because of how funny his expression is, but I figure it's not my business, and he has enough on his plate right now. Yes, I have compassion. I'm not always nosy. "Okay, and you're sure there isn't anyone else she's close to? Maybe someone from work she's only mentioned in passing."

  "There isn't anyone else. Just me and Zoe."

  I blow a raspberry with my mouth. Think, Gianna. If something horrible happened to Julian, and I was in a world of pain, what would I do? I'd get drunk on the beach with Izzie. But if that wasn't possible or after I sobered, I'd go… I'd want to stay close to Julian.

  Duh. I slap the steering wheel. "What about your place? Does she have a key?"

  He smiles big. His top teeth are straggly, one shorter than the other, and I'm surprised an orthodontist wasn't a part of his past considering all the money his family has. "Yes, of course. I live over on Mediterranean Avenue."

  Of course he does.

  Mediterranean is over in the East End, the ritzy part of town. When the streets were named, someone with a sense of humor named the richest part of town with the cheapest Monopoly property names. Baltic Avenue isn't far from him.