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

by Jennifer Fischetto

  I follow him through the double doors that lead to the Emergency Department waiting room. Half the room is full of people either asleep, doubled over in pain, or staring blankly at the televisions hanging up near the ceiling.

  Freezer Dude jumps into the first person—a man holding his head. The man shudders and I bet feels worse than he did beforehand. Freezer Dude leaps back out and goes to the next person.

  I watch him play leapfrog through half the room before he staggers over to a sidewall and appears to be leaning against it, gasping for breath. But ghosts don't breathe. Ah! He's exhausted from all the jumping. Good. Serves him right.

  I walk over to him, hold my cell to my ear, and ask, "What the heck are you doing?"

  He barely lifts his head. His crazy stare practically melts my eye sockets. How creepy. I half expect him to fly at me again, but he's too tired for that.

  "Well?" I ask again. My patience is waning, and I want to get out of here.

  His bright blue eyes light up, and I follow his gaze over my shoulder to the triage desk. A man in a blue-and-white checkered top and beige pants walks in. He's holding his wrist, and blood is spurting and dripping.

  A nurse yells, "He's bleeding everywhere."

  Panic sets in as someone races to get him a towel or something.

  Freezer Dude wastes no time and jumps into the man. The man shudders and reacts in the usual way.

  I hold my breath, not quite sure what's going to happen, but suddenly Freezer Dude is thrown back out. He lands on the bloody floor, on his butt. The bleeding man is ushered through a door.

  Finally, Freezer Dude looks to me and says, "I'm trying to find a body that's weak enough to let me stay. I'll keep looking. There must be one around someplace."

  With a wink, he disappears.

  Now I need to lean against the wall as his words fully form in my mind. Holy crap!

  * * *

  Freezer Dude's disturbing comments keep me awake half the night. What if he succeeds? Then what happens? He just takes over someone's life? There has to be a way to stop him, to send him back to the hereafter. There has to be some sort of checks and balances system for the other side, like ghost police.

  When I go to my shift at the deli, Ma's still being quiet. I really thought she would've given up the silent treatment last night. She asks me to hand her the spatula for the lasagna and to fill up the tortellini salad bin, but she doesn't talk. Not like usual. She doesn't even sing or hum. I'm starting to miss my chatty, musical mother.

  She leaves as soon as Pop shows up, and at least he speaks to me. He doesn't initiate conversations—that's not Pop's style—but when I initiate, he responds. Work goes by slowly and is as boring as heck, so I'm very grateful when I get off and head upstairs to my apartment.

  I step out of the shower, after scrubbing away the scent of vinegar and prosciutto, when my cell rings. I don't recognize the number. I swipe the flashing green phone receiver. "Hello?"

  "Is this Gianna Mancini?" asks a female voice I don't recognize.

  "Yes?"

  "This is Natalia Kane from Sparks. I'm calling to let you know that you got the gig."

  I got it? No.

  "Seriously?" Despite the swarming of bald eagles in my stomach, I'm thrilled and feel like jumping up and down.

  She gives a light chuckle. "Yes. I'd like you to come in and fill out the paperwork and get your schedule. Are you free tomorrow around 4:30?"

  A schedule? That means more than one performance. Oh my gosh, what have I gotten myself into?

  "Yes, I'm available. I'll be there. Thank you." I'm off from the deli tomorrow, so it works out perfectly.

  "Great. See you then."

  The line clicks in my ear, and I'm frozen to the spot. I got the job. Yay! I'm going to be singing in front of an audience. Ugh! The eagles subside long enough for my stomach to flip repeatedly. What if I vomit on stage?

  No. I push my shoulders back. I was fine during the audition. I'll be fine when I perform. Besides, now I'll have time to practice. My thoughts go to Ma. She's the singer of the family. Will she be upset that I'm getting a chance to do this and not her? Should I even tell her about it? I don't think I can keep it a secret for long, especially not when I'm actually performing. I'll want to share it. Despite my hesitations, I'm really excited. I wonder how much it pays.

  My cell rings again. Is Natalia calling back to say she made a mistake? The number is different but still one I don't recognize.

  "Hello?"

  "This is Mystic Aurora. Is this…"

  "Yes, it's me. What's going on?" I'm so excited to hear from her I forget my manners.

  "Can you swing by my shop?"

  "I'm on my way." I hang up and run to my car.

  * * *

  When I enter her shop, I have to blink several times due to the dimness. Mystic Aurora greets me at the door with a sullen look and deep creases along her brow. Oh, this isn't going to be good. She takes my hand and leads me to a table in a back room.

  I'm expecting brightly colored scarves draped on top of the tables and over light shades, to give a mystical atmosphere. That's how it looks in the movies anyway. Instead, it's a pretty, sterile room with a round white table big enough to seat four and chairs. A deck of tarot cards lies on the table, and several are spread out. There's a desk along the far wall, a filing cabinet, and an oversized armchair that looks super cozy. A few plants, lamps, and a couple of framed photographs I can't make out from here finish the small space.

  "What's going on?" I ask as panic starts to enter my body. "You're scaring me."

  She lights a white candle. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to, but I must admit that what I saw the other night scared me as well."

  "Ah-ha! So you did see the ghost."

  She stares into my eyes. Hers are wide, and fear surrounds her light green irises. "I don't know what I saw. I've never seen one before."

  "How is that even possible? You're a psychic. Don't the dearly departed come in to talk to their loved ones?"

  She shook her head. "I mostly clear chakras." Her voice is low and squeaky.

  I am clueless about chakras, and my psychic knowledge is limited, once again, to TV and movies, but it sounds like she's not going to be as helpful as I hoped. "So how do I get rid of him?"

  "I don't know."

  I sigh, starting to lose my patience. "Then why did you call me?"

  "I'm looking into it, but in the meantime, I read your cards." She waves her hand over the deck laid out on the table before her. The cards are colorful and pretty, but I don't have a clue what any of them mean.

  "Don't I need to be here for you to do that?" If not, I really know nothing.

  She picks up the brochure I left with my number. "I used this for your energy."

  Well, that's cool. "And? What do the cards say?"

  "There are two men who keep showing themselves. There are changes in your future. Some will be good, something to do with a man, a partner who holds your heart."

  That's Julian, and it's good news? Great. I don't think I can deal with any more heartache with him.

  "But not all of the changes are good," Aurora says. "The other man is dark and dangerous. You have to watch out for him. He's in your way."

  That has to be Freezer Dude, but in my way for what? "Can you be more specific?"

  "No. The cards are more impressions, and they show what could happen. Nothing is guaranteed. You make choices every day, and all of this could change tomorrow depending on what you do today."

  That's promising. It means I'm in control of my life. Just the way I like it.

  She glances back down to the cards and points to one off to the side. "Please be careful though. There's a lot of darkness and danger in your near future."

  * * *

  Since I got the gig, there's no reason to go to dinner with Julian at Sparks. I am going in tomorrow and will catch up with Zoe and speak to the other employees soon enough. Plus, I forgot that Sparks is closed on Mondays. So after l
eaving Mystic Aurora's, I call Julian, and we switch restaurants to my favorite seafood joint in the East End.

  I choose a simple black dress I bought years ago but rarely wear. It has short sleeves, a square neckline, and comes to just above my knees. The darts sewn into the waist area means it accentuates my curves and doesn't just hang. I choose to wear it because of Aurora's words about a partner that holds my heart. It has me thinking lovey-dovey thoughts.

  I meet Julian downstairs. I don't want him to come upstairs because if he looks as sexy as he usually does in a suit, and hence those lovey-dovey feelings, we may not make it to the restaurant. And I really have my heart set on some shrimp. So I run down and stand outside just as he pulls in.

  I walk around the front of his car. The headlights make me squint, and when I open the passenger door, he whistles. It makes me giddy, and I laugh. I climb up into the seat.

  "We should go to dinner more often," he says. "You look happy."

  I turn to him full smile. "I am." Then I frown. "Do I normally look unhappy?"

  He chuckles softly. "No, but you're usually preoccupied with something."

  I pull at the seatbelt. He's definitely right about that.

  He puts the car in reverse. "By the way, you look amazing."

  My smile deepens. This is turning out to be a great night.

  We arrive at the restaurant, Coastal, and surprisingly, it's packed. I hadn't expected a crowd on a Monday night. Luckily the host is able to seat us right away, and we score a table by the front windows. Coastal is this weird rustic fine-dining place where wood paneling accompanies white tablecloths. It's this mix of fancy and casual. The dining room is medium-sized with probably fifteen tables that are closer together than they should be. There's a separate bar area, which is small but cozy, and a patio with full-service that's open on warmer days and nights. The absolute best part about Coastal though is the food. There's nothing casual about that. Succulent crabs and lobsters, and the scallops melt in your mouth.

  I stare at my menu, immediately decide on the Pasta Coastal, and set the menu back down. It's a no-brainer. Shrimp and sea scallops nestled over linguine in a butter-garlic-white-wine sauce with mushrooms and shallots. How can I think of eating anything else?

  "So, have you learned anything about Serena?" I ask.

  Julian sets his menu down and opens his mouth to fill me on all the juicy details when suddenly I hear someone call my name.

  I turn my head and see Enzo and Carly walking over. "Oh, my gosh, what are you guys doing here?"

  Enzo shakes Julian's hand. "We're having dinner too."

  Carly points to a table on the other side of the dining room. There are two glasses of water, and the setting is messed up, but there aren't any plates.

  "Are you done?"

  "No, we just ordered, and I saw you walk in," Carly said. "Enzo didn't want to bother you in case you want to be alone, but it seemed silly to just sit there and pretend we don't see you."

  "You should join us," I say and look at Julian.

  He doesn't hesitate when he agrees.

  "We don't want to impose," Enzo says.

  Julian gets up and sits beside me, so they can sit together across from us. "No, man. This is fine. It'll be great."

  Enzo holds out Carly's chair. She sits down and giggles. "A double date. This will be so much fun."

  Enzo frowns at her but doesn't say anything. "Let me go tell our server."

  I have a feeling their server isn't the same as ours, so he or she may be pissed they're missing out on a tip. I want to make sure Julian is okay, so I lean into him and whisper, "Are you sure you don't mind?"

  He places his forehead against mine. "Not at all."

  I want to move my neck a few inches and press my mouth against his, but since we have an observer, and I don't want to confuse poor Julian, I decide against it. But damn, he smells so good. Like leather and something woodsy.

  Enzo returns with our server, and Julian and I order.

  We spend the next twenty minutes with small talk. Carly works as a receptionist at a used-car lot, and her days are long and boring. She's living in a small apartment in Island Park. It's actually the basement rental of a three-bedroom house. It's quiet, so she likes it. Enzo doesn't comment on its decor or the area, so I'm led to believe he hasn't seen it yet.

  Our food arrives, and it looks and smells amazing. We each ordered something different, and if Izzie had been across from Julian instead of Carly, I would stick my fork in each of their plates, with their permission of course. I pick up a shrimp with my fork and bite into it. I'm pretty sure I moan as the garlicky flavors caress my tongue. Then again, I can't be sure because everyone else seems to be moaning too.

  Julian ordered the crab stuffed sole with rice pilaf and broccoli, Carly got the butter soaked lobster tail, and Enzo is chowing down on his steak frites, which is a NY strip with thinly cut French fries but sounds more special when you say it in French. He was never one for delicacies from the sea. There aren't enough delicious adjectives in the world to describe my taste buds right now.

  "How's the Sterling case going?" I ask after several mouthfuls. I hope I sound nonchalant. At least to Carly. She doesn't need to know I'm a meddling buttinsky. Enzo and Julian know exactly who I am and why I'm asking.

  Enzo smirks and says, "It's funny you ask. I was meaning to…" He allows his words to trail. "Um, actually, the detectives discovered the dead man wasn't Thomas Sterling."

  I allow my fork to slip out of my fingers and clank against my plate. "Excuse me?"

  We're all silent while Enzo puts a large chunk of beef into his mouth and chews. He's not pulling my leg. The ghost isn't who he says he is? That can't be. I glance to Julian, who looks almost as stunned as me with his brows forged together.

  I glance to Carly too, who's frowning as well, but she doesn't have a clue what we're talking about. She looks at me and asks, "Is that a bad thing? Doesn't it mean that this Thomas Sterling is still alive then?"

  I can't very well tell her that the dead guy told me he's Thomas, and this means he's a lying sack of crap.

  "Yes," Enzo says. "The real Sterling is in Europe. He has a second home there."

  I'm trying to keep my composure and not act like I've been sucker punched, but that's how I feel. He lied to me. Does that mean Serena's been lying too? Was that why they didn't want me looking into his death? The creeps. But why the charade? It can't matter who I think he is. There has to be more going on here.

  "What about his mother?" I ask. "She was at his house. Wouldn't she know where her son was?"

  Enzo shakes his head. "I don't know that. All I know is that Sterling has been in Europe for the past six months with his wife."

  "He's married?" I ask, doubly stunned.

  Enzo nods.

  Julian places his hand on my thigh, under the table, and gives me a reassuring squeeze. I wish Carly would excuse herself to the bathroom, so I could rant out loud. I have a major bone to pick with a ghost.

  Enzo changes the conversation to movies, and the double date becomes lively, but I don't want to think of the latest production of Magic Mike, which the guys do not find appealing but Carly does. I'd rather continue to stew about the Fake Thomas. I don't want to spoil the evening though. So I bring up the third installment of Insidious, and the rest of the evening is filled with chatter and laughter.

  Forty minutes later, we're walking to our cars, saying good-night and how we need to do this again soon.

  With my seatbelt fastened, I lay my hand on Julian's, which is on the gearshift and about to put the car in reverse.

  He looks into my eyes and starts to smile.

  "Will you do me a favor?" I ask.

  "Anything." One word so simple and he has me weak at the knees. Not in a sexual way, although that's always just around the corner with us. This is different though. This means he really is here for me. It's not that I haven't known this, but it's been on a mental level, and this is pure emotion right now.
>
  "Can you please look into all of these people and find out who the fake Sterling and his mother are? You may as well throw in Serena Tate as well."

  Julian smiles, and his eyes light up. My asking him to use his skills is important to him. I can see it all over his naturally tanned, gorgeous face. "Absolutely."

  There goes another one-word, simple reply again. And my knees.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  A shrill ringing scares the bejeebies out of me and makes me snort in a breath, as if I forgot to breathe while I was sleeping. I open my eyes a hair's width, reach for my cell on the nightstand, and silently curse the caller. It seems to be light out but not very bright, which means it's either going to be a gray, rainy day or this mean person is calling at dawn.

  "Hello?" I say without looking at the caller ID. That would require using my eyes, and they want to shut again, which I happily oblige.

  "All of my jeans are too tight," Izzie says with disgust. "And don't get me started about my heels. I can't wear them anymore. What am I going to do? I can't wear flats and be…five-four." She whispers her height, like the short police are standing behind her. As if five-four is short.

  "What time is it, and why has this become my problem?"

  "Because you're my sister, and you care enough to not have me walking out of the house naked and short."

  I snort twice and then have to cough. "So you want to go maternity clothes shopping?"

  She gasps. "I'll just buy a few things in a larger size."

  I try rolling my eyes with my lids still shut, but it just makes me dizzy, so I open them. "If I'm getting out of bed to go shopping, you're getting maternity clothes. Don't be vain."

  Suddenly Thomas is sitting beside me, on the edge of my mattress. "I can't find her."

  I scream.

  Then Izzie screams. "Okay, so I'll buy maternity clothes."

  "No, not you. Look, I'll call you back." Before she can protest, I click off. Clothes shopping can wait a bit. I'm sure she's not actually sitting around naked. She has that ratty robe.