Dead People

by Edie Ramer

Cassie put her fork down, her cake less than half eaten. “Did Mrs. Shay have anyone she confided in?”

  “Not really,” Darleen said. “Aren’t you going to finish your coffeecake?”

  “Huh? Oh, yes.” Cassie picked up her fork again.

  “I felt sorry for Mrs. Shay.” Darleen nodded with approval as Cassie stuffed a bite of cake into her mouth. “She didn’t have friends or even family, not on her side, just Mr. Shay’s niece and nephew. They live in Texas and Canada, and neither bothered coming to the funeral. But they found time to swoop down a few weeks later and sell her personal items in an estate sale.” She pointed at a Tiffany lamp on a side table. “I got that for twenty-two bucks.”

  “A bargain.”

  “Tricia bought a garbage bag full of stuff. I thought she was going to sell it on eBay, but she’s keeping it all.” She scratched her chins. “She’s always been fond of that house.”

  Every muscle in Tricia’s body tightened. She kept her relaxed posture, though she couldn’t make her rigid mouth smile. “I’m not really that fond. The stuff I bought might be worth money some day.”

  “What did you buy?” Cassie sounded interested, curious, not suspicious.

  Tricia raised one shoulder in a shrug that was short of rude, on the side of careless, calculating every inch. “Just junk.”

  “I don’t know why you bought the old photo albums,” Darleen said.

  “Mom, you’re embarrassing me.” Tricia gave Cassie what she hoped looked like an awkward smile. “I’m thinking of donating them to the Historical Society. They were all of Mr. Shay’s family. If I hadn’t bought them, the niece and nephew would’ve thrown them in the trash.”

  “The Historical Society won’t be interested in Mr. Shay’s family pictures,” Darleen said. “His parents moved into the house before him, but they owned a department store in Milwaukee. Sold out and retired up here. Their investments made money—the rich get richer.”

  “And it all went to the nephew and niece?” Cassie asked, her voice too studiously disinterested to fool Tricia.

  Tricia went cold then hot. Why these questions? Cassie couldn’t guess what Tricia had done. Even if Mrs. Shay had talked to Cassie, she wouldn’t know what happened. Mrs. Shay never had a clue.

  How could she? Tricia had come to the house with her mother that morning, knowing Darleen would find Mrs. Shay dead. While Darleen called 911, Tricia grabbed the leftover candy and threw it out. There were still a few pieces of chocolate that Mrs. Shay hadn’t got around to eating, and she knew Darleen would have scarfed them up.

  With all her faults, she was still her mom. Tricia didn’t want to kill her.

  Thinking about that morning made Tricia nervous. Ravenous. Made her want to run to the kitchen, wolf down the rest of the coffee cake, then lick any crumbs left in the pan.

  “The estate was split equally between the niece and nephew,” Darleen said. “They got every penny, except five thousand that Mrs. Shay left to me. Tricia thinks Mrs. Shay stiffed me, but I’m happy I got that much. You should’ve heard the ladies from her church grumbling because the church wasn’t mentioned in the will.”

  “Do you know anything about the history of the house?” Cassie asked.

  Tricia frowned, then reminded herself that frowning caused wrinkles and she couldn’t afford Botox. Not yet.

  What was Cassie poking her nose into? The history of the house had nothing to do with what she’d done to Mrs. Shay. Though if Cassie found out about Kurt...

  “It’s old,” Darleen said. “Very old. You could ask the Historical Society.”

  Tricia breathed easier. Sometimes having a stupid mom was good. Let Cassie ask the Historical Society and see how far that got her. The only thing the Historical Society was good for was getting together and yakking about how long their families had lived in Bliss. Like stagnation was a good thing.

  Cassie shrugged and ate the last bite of her cake. Tricia pretended to eat the last bite of hers, then spat it into a napkin that she shoved into her jacket pocket with the others.

  “Thank you for the cake,” Cassie said. “And for all your help.”

  Tricia restrained herself from jumping up. As soon as Cassie left, so would she. She hated every second in this house. Its smallness stifled her.

  Not like the Shay house, with its twenty high-ceilinged rooms, the fancy plasterwork and the gleaming woodwork.

  A sudden fierceness swept through her. Her house. The house should belong to her.

  Something had gone seriously wrong. Her name should’ve been in the will with the other descendants of Thomas.

  “And thank you, Tricia,” Cassie said.

  “It was nothing,” Tricia said with a smile. Not lying because it was true, thanks to her mother’s denseness. Darleen was like the three monkeys rolled into one: see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.

  There was only one “evil” her mother would break. Eat no evil.

  “My Tricia is the best girl in the world.” Darleen heaved herself off the sofa. “I wish I could help her more. She works so hard and never complains. Because she’s beautiful and smart, the other girls in town are jealous. They make up stories about her. As for the boys, they just want one thing.”

  “Mom.” Tricia put her hands over her ears.

  “It’s true. Don’t be so modest.” Darleen nodded at Cassie as Tricia lowered her arms. “It will change when she gets out of Bliss and goes to UWM. But even working two jobs, it’ll take her another year to afford it. I hate it that I can’t afford to help her.”

  “Can’t she get grants or scholarships?” Cassie asked.

  “If her grades were better,” Darleen said.

  Tricia went hot and cold. She wished she hadn’t thrown those last deadly chocolates in the garbage disposal. She wanted to stuff them into her mother’s big mouth right now, watch her chew them, watch her die.

  “How can her grades improve when she’s working every night?” Darleen added.

  “Mom! I’ll do it like everyone else does. I’ll work hard.” Tricia couldn’t manage a smile, but could tell by Cassie’s approving expression she’d said the right thing. “I’ll walk outside with you, Cassie. I should leave too.”

  Tricia kissed her mother’s cheek at the door and said she loved her. And she did. Darleen had been there for Tricia when she slunk home from LA, never pushing Tricia for the reason she stayed in her bedroom for three weeks straight, coming out only to use the bathroom, to eat, and to vomit.

  That was in the past. Tricia was stronger than the naïve girl who’d flown to L.A., so sure life was going to be wonderful away from Bliss.

  Now she knew people were horrible everywhere, and she needed to be just as horrible as them.

  And she was. She was the most horrible of them all.

  Cassie interrupted her thoughts to thank her again. Tricia gave her a modest smile, one she’d practiced in the mirror at least two thousand times.

  “I’ll see you at the house later on?” Tricia asked.

  “I’ll be there tonight.” Cassie rolled her eyes. “The graveyard shift. Literally. Luke thinks Isabel is more active at night.”

  “How much more active can she get than yesterday?” Tricia knew she was staring, her eyes bulging like a cartoon character’s, but she didn’t care. “She might really hurt you. What’s he thinking?”

  “He’ll be there with me, though I don’t know what he’ll do against her.” Cassie shrugged.

  Luke would be there with Cassie? Alone? All night

  Noooooooo!

  “Aren’t you afraid?”

  “I’m hoping she’ll be calmer and realize she’s made a mistake.” Cassie’s mouth twisted into an expression Tricia couldn’t read, but it made her shiver inside. “Luke told her if she doesn’t behave, he’s tearing the house down and she won’t have a place to stay. Hopefully that will keep her from acting up.”

  Tear the house down? NO! NO, NO, NO!

  “Thank you again.” Cassie’s voice seemed to
come from far away instead of less than two feet. With a wave, Cassie crossed to her car and opened the driver’s door.

  Tricia stood on the sidewalk, her heart pounding an uneven tune in her chest. Beat, beat, beat, skip, beat. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.

  Cassie started her car, then pulled away. Feeling like Moses at the end of his forty-year trek through the desert, Tricia stumbled to her car. In the driver’s seat, she sat for a moment.

  Luke was going to ruin everything.

  She shoved her hand in her jacket pocked, felt for the napkins and took one out. She opened it, picked out the chewed coffeecake and shoved it into her mouth. She chewed twice and then swallowed. She wadded the napkin up and then dug into her pocket again, taking out another napkin.

  If this was all for nothing... She didn’t know what she was going to do. She didn’t hate Luke like she did Mrs. Shay. After the way Mrs. Shay treated her mom, she deserved to die.

  Tricia had come too far for to turn back now. She had a Plan A and a Plan B.

  Maybe it was time for Plan C.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Joe didn’t care for the way the guitar player eyeballed Cassie, as if she were a chrome-plated hot rod and he couldn’t wait to jump in and burn rubber. Good thing Joe had followed her, even though she’d told him not to. May as well get some use out of being dead. He could’ve used this invisible thing when he was on the force.

  More than fifty years now, and he still missed a good beer. Hell, he even missed bad beer, the smooth way a cold one went down his throat on a hot summer night, the smell of hops, the bitter edge. He wanted it all. Hot dogs smothered in ketchup and mustard, a warm steak oozing blood, a Cuban cigar, his mom’s black forest cake.

  And women. He missed holding a warm woman in his arms even more than he missed sex. Well, almost more. He hadn’t been a eunuch. Even after polio took Mary away.

  Sometimes he wondered why he didn’t go and find Mary. Wasn’t she the love of his life? But he just couldn’t let go of earth

  Unlike the poor schlubs he and Cassie found wandering around in a mess of emotional confusion, Joe knew he was dead a minute after the bullet slammed into his heart. He’d understood all he needed to do to leave was to let go of earth and fly. But something held him back, a sense that there was something more for him.

  Since he’d met Cassie three years ago, this non-bodily existence had gotten easier with someone to talk to. Someone to laugh with. Someone on the same channel as him. Someone who breathed real air.

  Sometimes he lay down beside her at night just to hear her little snores. She told him she felt his breath sometimes, but she must be imagining it. The way he figured it, she wanted him to breathe.

  Some day, though, he was going to surprise her. He’d been practicing a few experiments the last couple years, but he wasn’t ready for prime time yet. When the ectoplasm disintegrated, he felt like a used condom. He didn’t want Cassie to see him like that.

  If the cat with the guitar tried anything on Cassie, Joe might take that chance. No one ever said Joe was yellow when he was alive, and they weren’t going to say it in death either. Hell, it was easier to be brave now.

  He had nothing to lose. Mary was gone, his mom, dad and brother were gone.

  He kept track of friends, but only one was left, and he wouldn’t live long. Besides, he couldn’t talk to him. Just see him getting older and sicker every day. Not the same thing.

  All he had was Cassie.

  ***

  Outside the wind howled, a fall storm building up. Inside, Cassie’s emotions howled, another storm building up, and she didn’t know what would happen when it broke. The family room was snug, too snug. She felt stifled, not because of the barometric pressure, not because of the memories from the last time she was here, but because of the man sitting across from her on the sofa, one ankle crossed over his knee, his shiny guitar across his lap. The picture of a man at ease, confident, with no fear.

  Cassie wasn’t afraid either. Not of Isabel. Not of Luke. He was a mere man. The guy who was going to give her the lovely check once Isabel left the house. That’s the only thing she wanted from him.

  Yeah, right.

  She inhaled, trying to center herself, trying to block out the wind rattling against the windows and the pricking of her skin, her awareness of Luke sitting across from her in his jeans and black shirt, looking like the original bad boy.

  A crackle in the air made Cassie start and peer around the room. “Isabel? Are you here?”

  “You see something?” Luke asked.

  “I feel something.”

  “Isabel?”

  She tilted her head slowly, trying not to lose touch, but the energy faded, thread by thread. “You don’t have any other dead people around, do you?”

  “Not that I’ve seen.” There was a dryness in his tone, as if his vocal chords had gone through a few rounds in the dryer. “This is the strangest conversation I’ve ever had. And I’ve talked to drunks and junkies who were flying in strange worlds with black skies and blood red grass.”

  “Ghosts are my life. It’s what I do.” She shrugged. “You talk to addicts, I talk to ghosts.”

  His mouth quirked. “Ghosts have to be more interesting than drunks.”

  “I’ll put that in the book I’m writing.”

  “You’re writing a book?”

  She thought of I Talk to Ghosts by her nemesis, currently number twenty-two on the New York Times best seller list. “Isn’t everyone?” Even the fakes. She smiled, her teeth gritted together. “You’re making it hard to concentrate on Isabel.”

  “Okay, I’ll shut up.” His hand hovered over the guitar and his fingers jiggled but they didn’t touch the guitar strings.

  She looked away, but she still felt him. Like humidity, the sense of him surrounded her, clinging to her. Pheromones, she told herself. Thick in the air, thick on her skin.

  In response, she radiated estrogen. She couldn’t stop it anymore than she stopped her heart from beating. It obviously was the time of the month when her body arrowed in on the most masculine guy in sight and shouted “I’m fertile! Come and make babies with me.”

  Ah, Joe, if only you were alive.

  “Isabel, come on out,” Luke called. “Now’s your chance to tell us your darkest thoughts and desires.”

  “How can she resist that offer?” Cassie asked.

  “Beats the fuck out of me.” He flopped back against the sofa cushions.

  She gave a laugh that sounded sexual to her own ears. Oh God, no.

  “Isabel.” She made her voice a plea. Dead people didn’t always understand logic, but they understood emotion. She sent a silent message. Come before I do something stupid. “We want to help you. Come to us, talk to us, we’ll listen to you.”

  Something moved in Cassie’s peripheral. When she turned her head, she saw a blur and then it was gone.

  “I know you must be confused,” she continued, “wondering what happened. Ask me questions. I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

  The nebulous presence thickened. A shimmery form hovered next to the yellow lamp by the window, not quite ready to come out of the ether.

  Ordering her body to cool down, Cassie focused on Isabel. Isabel needed coercing. Or maybe she needed it laid out for her—the make or break plea. Cassie specialized in them.

  “I know you heard me last night telling Luke someone killed you. I’m sorry you had to find out that way and I understand your denial. Come on out, and I’ll tell you to your face.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Isabel stopped herself from gathering her ectoplasm and becoming visible. She stopped herself from standing in front of them, her hands on her hips, her legs apart. She stopped herself from screaming at them to leave her alone, even though the words were on the tip of her almost-not-there tongue in her almost-not-there body, vibrating in her almost-not-there brain.

  GO AWAY. GO AWAY. GO AWAY.

  But what if she disappeared again? Wha
t if this time she didn’t come back? What if she died for good?

  Or what if Luke got mad? He was a hard man. The only softening she’d seen since he’d moved in nearly two months ago was when he talked to his sulky kid. If Isabel said the wrong thing to him, he’d smash the house into toothpicks.

  He made her feel confused and uncertain, just like Thomas. The richest, most handsome man in town married her, and she’d thought all her dreams had come true on her wedding day.

  But she quickly realized her dreams were false. She was like Princess Di but without the kids, the adulation and the rich lover.

  Then Thomas did the nicest thing for her. Much nicer than asking her to marry him.

  He died.

  Leaving her everything.

  And the power switched to her. Sycophants came knocking at her door, finally giving her the respect she was overdue.

  Standing at his gravesite, she’d almost loved him.

  But now she was nothing again. Luke could tear down the house and she’d be homeless.

  Except...

  If she played ball with them, they’d be indebted to her, wouldn’t they? Could she take the chance?

  “Isabel,” Cassie said. “Isabel.”

  A guitar plucked. “Isabel, come out and play,” Luke sang. “Isn’t it time you had your say?”

  She shuddered. Could it get any worse than this? Maybe if she talked he’d shut up.

  “Why should I believe you?”

  His laughter cut off and his head jerked toward her direction.

  Cassie looked her way but didn’t blink. “Because dead people only stick around when they’ve died before their time. Since you weren’t in an accident, you must’ve been killed.”

  “How can I believe you? How do you know for sure?”

  “I’ve seen dead people my whole life, and not one has died of natural causes.”

  “You must be popular during Halloween.” She put scorn in her voice before she remembered she had to be careful.

  “Not really.” Sadness settled over Cassie’s features. “Not Halloween or any other holiday. But this isn’t about me, it’s about you.”