“Nothing is going to happen in two days. Nobody is that heartless. I’m sure she’s got Aunt Susie on her way to pick up Billy or something like that. Maybe she’s given him to one of your friends.”
Corinne sniffled. “I don’t have any friends.”
Cripes, but the girl was pathetic. “Tomorrow,” I said wearily. “First thing in the morning I’ll go to your apartment and confront...”
“Ruth.”
“Right. Ruth. But you have to let me sleep now. I feel like crap and I have to work tomorrow.”
She sniffled some more, but finally agreed and vanished.
After removing the bandage, I took a long, hot shower. My head was tender and the dried blood required a second shampooing. It wasn’t until after the shower that I peeked at myself in the mirror. How could Dr. Yum possibly flirt with me? I was way paler than normal, and the dark circles under my eyes were disgusting.
On my right temple was a huge knot. I peered closer. I didn’t have stitches. They had used something called Dermabond to glue the gash shut. I was promised it would heal with minimal scarring, and I had to admit it was hard to see where the gash had been. The lump was about the size of a quarter and looked grossly squishy. But when I touched it--OW!--it was actually quite firm.
I wrapped myself in a blue chenille bathrobe that I liberated from a spa trip two years ago and padded into the kitchen to make a cup of cinnamon tea.
I removed the blue willow teacup from its hook and turned. The cup slipped from my fingers at the sight of four men seated around my kitchen table.
The men were vague, flickering images, playing cards. They ignored me. One of them leapt to his feet and went for the other one’s throat. Two men tried to pull him off his victim, who flailed around wildly. The image jumped like an old TV picture and they were seated, peacefully playing cards.
The scene repeated again.
And again.
By the third repetition, my heart rate had returned to normal, but I no longer wanted tea. After satisfying myself that the cup didn’t appear damaged, I padded back into my living room.
“It’s just a residual.” Hephzibah made herself comfortable on my couch.
“Please tell me this type of thing won’t happen to me all the time.”
“It’s okay, doll,” Hephzibah said. “It’s just a residual of an event. They aren’t really ghosts. In fact, most psychics can’t even see them. Your gift must be pretty strong.”
“Lucky me.”
“Don’t worry. They won’t always be there. Residuals tend to come and go. Betcha they fade away soon.”
“I appreciate the info,” I said. “Don’t take this the wrong way...”
“I know, it’s late. But we need to talk, doll.”
I was heartily sick of spooks and spirits, but how do you tell Death no? I dropped onto my sofa with a sigh and pulled my robe tighter. “So that residual. Does that mean someone died in my kitchen?”
“No, it’s more like an impression from a strong event. It doesn’t mean it happened exactly in that spot. Residuals can drift. It happened somewhere around here. Probably a long time ago. Eventually they fade away. We need to talk about Corinne. She’s still refusing to cross over.”
“Tomorrow. I’ll work on it tomorrow. What is it with everyone? The girl is dead. Why such a rush?”
Hephzibah hesitated. “There are consequences for too much delay. Corinne needs to cross over soon. It ain’t good for her to stay here. The dead and the living need to be kept separate.”
That was something I agreed with wholeheartedly. “I promise. First thing tomorrow, I’ll call the aunt and check on the dog. Then she can cross over.”
“It’s not going to be that simple.”
“Why not? She said she would go if--”
“She says that now, but Corinne is an unsolved murder. If you can’t get them to cross over immediately, they have a hard time letting go.”
“So I’m wasting my time? Then why am I doing this? She can’t stay here. I don’t like being haunted.”
“You’re right there, doll. She can’t follow you around forever. What I’m trying to say is that you’re going to have to do a little more than make a phone call and check on a dog in order to get her to turn loose of this world.”
I punched a pillow in frustration. “Like what?”
“Like finding out who killed her.”
“What? You can’t possibly be serious.”
“Serious as a heart attack.” She laughed at her own joke, which turned into a hacking coughing fit. “I need a cig.”
I stared at her in disbelief. “Not in my apartment you don’t.”
Hephzibah sighed. “You young people never enjoy the good stuff anymore. I miss the sixties. Now that was a time.”
“Back to today. Hephzibah, I’m a secretary, not a detective. I have no idea how to solve a murder. Even if I wanted to, which I don’t.”
“You don’t have to really solve the thing. Maybe ask a few questions. Talk to the police for her. Just, you know, assure Corinne it’s being taken seriously, that she hasn’t been forgotten. I think I can get her to cross over then. That’s a good girl.”
“What makes you think I’ll do it?”
“You’re a Mahaffey.”
Chapter 3
Why on earth had I set my alarm so early? I hit the snooze button and wiped my bleary eyes.
“Oh no, you don’t,” said Corinne. “You promised me. First thing in the morning, you said. Remember?”
I rolled over. She’d learned a new trick and now hovered directly over my bed. “Get out of my bedroom.”
“No. Get up. We’re going to my apartment to see what Ruth has done with Billy. Get up, lazy bones.”
I groaned. I had promised to visit Corinne’s apartment on the way in to work. I’d called my boss to see if I could get another day off, but her attitude was that if I was well enough to be released from the hospital, I needed to come in to work. She didn’t outright threaten me, but she hinted darkly about the amount of work piling up on my desk.
Fortunately, Corinne’s apartment was reasonably close to mine in Canterbury Park, just north of Dallas. It would mean a detour of several blocks in the freezing cold, but it would be worth it to rid myself of being screeched awake by a cranky ghost. The thought of living with Corinne for the next forty years brought me upright.
“I’m up. Now leave so I can shower and dress. I’m not doing it with you hanging around.”
“Fine. I’ll wait in the kitchen.”
“Good. Play some cards while you’re at it. And make a pot of coffee.”
She started to sniffle. “You’re just mean. I loved coffee.” And with that she floated through my wall, presumably to sit, or hover, in my kitchen.
* * * *
True to my promise, an hour later I stood, bundled and freezing, on the landing to Corinne’s former apartment. Having mastered the art of hovering, she no longer walked. At first I found it disconcerting, but it’s extraordinary how quickly you can adjust to things. Like ghostly roommates. And Death popping in and out.
“I hope Billy isn’t too sad. Do you think he’ll be able to see me?”
I looked over at her. She had floated up to eye level with me. I’m not used to seeing other women outside my family eye-to-eye. “Why haven’t you checked on him yet by yourself?”
“I can’t. I don’t seem to have free rein. I’m sort of tethered to you.” She stuck her lower lip out.
I knocked on the door. “Don’t pout at me. It wasn’t my idea for you to stalk me.”
“I’m not stalking you. I’m haunting you.”
“Like there’s a difference.” I knocked again. “Maybe she’s gone.” I shivered and pulled my woolen hat tighter as a gust caught me.
“She’s here. Her car is in the lot.”
The door opened a fraction. The security chain was still latched.
“Ruth?” I said. “Ruth Yeshu?”
The door opened a l
ittle wider, but the chain remained intact. A pointy nose and beady eyes were visible through the crack. “Who are you?”
“My name is Portia Mahaffey. I was a friend of Corinne’s.”
“She’s dead.”
Duh. “Yes, I know. I’m here about the dog.”
“What dog?” Ruth said.
“Corinne’s dog. I’m supposed to check on Billy.”
The door closed slightly as Ruth removed the chain and then it opened wider. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“That bitch,” Corinne breathed. “If she’s done something to Billy...”
“Cut the games, Ruth,” I said loudly enough to drown out Corinne in my ear.
Corinne floated into the apartment hunting for her dog. “Billy? Come to Mommy.” She made smoochy noises.
“I’m not here to take Billy,” I said. “You can keep him if you want. I...I promised Corinne that if anything ever happened to her, I would make sure Billy was taken care of.”
Ruth finally stepped back and let me inside. She pulled her sweater tighter. It was much too big for her and it swallowed her skinny frame. “It’s too cold to do this at the door,” she said.
“He’s not here,” Corinne said.
“You’re too late,” Ruth said to me. “I got rid of the dog.”
“Already? Don’t you think that was a bit hasty? What if her aunt wants him?”
“Not my problem.” Her ferret face was hard and mean.
It was hard to concentrate over Corinne’s wailing. “My sweater. She’s wearing my sweater. She took my dog and my sweater.”
I loomed over Ruth. “I’m making it your problem. I want Billy and I want all of Corinne’s stuff packed up for her Aunt Susie. Someone will pick it up.”
Ruth’s beady eyes narrowed further. “How do I know you were really her friend and not some scammer? You don’t have any legal right to tell me what to do.”
“You’re wearing Corinne’s sweater,” I said.
“Maybe it’s my sweater.”
“Lying bitch!” Corinne screeched, making me wince at the volume. “It’s mine. Mine!”
“It’s Corinne’s sweater, all right. I know that for a fact.”
“So what if you saw Corinne with it?” Ruth crossed her arms over her skinny chest. “We wore each other’s clothes all the time.” Yeah, right. Corinne wore double digits and Ruth couldn’t be any bigger than a six.
“I was with Corinne when she bought it.” Hey, I was getting the hang of lying.
“Marshall’s. Just last week,” Corinne said.
“...at Marshall’s last week,” I added.
Ruth’s mouth dropped open, but she closed it quickly. “How come I’ve never seen you before? Corinne didn’t have friends.”
“That she told you about.”
“I never even wore the sweater,” Corinne lamented.
“I don’t think she ever wore the sweater,” I said.
“It still had the tag on it.” Corinne peered closely at the sweater.
“I’ll bet you pulled the tag off and took it,” I said. “What else have you helped yourself to? Maybe I should call her Aunt Susie. Maybe I should call the police. I’ll bet that’s theft. Stealing a dead girl’s stuff. That’s low.”
Ruth wrenched open the door. “Get out.”
There were bright spots of color on both her cheeks. This was kind of fun.
“I’m not leaving until you tell me what you did with the dog. Where’s Billy?”
Ruth started to look frightened. “I told you. I don’t have the dog. I took him to the pound over on Lexington.”
Corinne burst into noisy sobs.
Ruth gave me a shove. I stumbled backward and she slammed the door. “Go away!”
“You’d better hope he’s okay.” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “Come on, Corinne, it’s okay. We’ll get him. They keep animals for three days, I think.” That sounded right. I had heard that somewhere. Corinne cried harder. I looked around to see if people were staring, but it was too cold. Everyone had heads down rushing along. “Let’s go back to the DART station. After work, I’ll get Billy.”
On a map, Dallas Area Rapid Transit, or DART, looks like an octopus with the main body of the beast being in the city proper. Several legs run up through the park cities and farther north, up the technological corridor, all the way to Plano and Carrollton. I can get almost every place I need by train or bus.
“But it’s Wednesday and I died on Monday. We have to go now, before it’s too late.”
I gritted my teeth and called Cruella de Vil. Of course, my boss is really named Ginger Deville of Smithson, Parker, and Deville, but Cruella suits her. I’m sure she would club puppies if it helped her relieve stress. I trudged toward the station with cellphone at ear, prepared for the groveling.
Joy of joys, Cruella’s voice mail picked up, and I tried to spit it all out before a live human could pick up. “Hi, it’s me. Portia. Listen, I have to take care of something really, really super important this morning. I am coming back to work today, and I’ll work through lunch and stay late until my desk is clear, but I have to do this and I appreciate your understanding so--”
“Portia?” I winced as Ginger’s crisp voice answered. Should have hung up quicker. “I thought you said you were coming back today.”
“I did. I am. I just have to take care of something.” Or be stalked for eternity.
“What could be more important than your job?”
“I...uh...” Here I had thought my lying skills were improving. “I have to see the doctor one more time. And pick up some...medicine. Yes, I need to pick something up. That’s exactly what I’m doing.” That part wasn’t a lie. I was picking up a dog, and getting rid of my ghostly roommate would be the best medicine ever.
“You said the doctor had cleared you to work. I need you here, Portia. I can’t run around short-staffed. Where is the demand letter for the Butcher case? And my schedule? It hasn’t been updated in days. I hardly know where I’m supposed to be when. If I miss a court setting because I wasn’t properly notified...” She let the implied threat hang there.
“I’ll get everything caught up. I’ll have the letter on your desk by lunch, and I’ll get all your things typed and the schedule updated before I leave today. Promise.”
She sighed heavily, implying the huge sacrifice on her part for having a slothful secretary who had managed to get hurt. “Get here as quickly as possible.” Click.
That was it. Not even a How’s your head? Four years ought to warrant a card at the least.
* * * *
To get to Lexington, I rode the red leg into the hub and switched to the blue one. It was inconvenient and time-consuming, but the distance was much too far to walk.
I tried to ignore Corinne on the train. She hovered close by, but there was no way I would talk to her and get myself hauled off by security.
The train jostled to a stop at the terminal nearest the Lexington address I had gotten from information. As soon as I departed the train, Corinne was yammering again. I ignored her until I reached the pound. Then I realized that I had no idea what Billy looked like.
“So what kind of dog am I looking for?”
“Billy’s a pug.”
“Those are little dogs, right?”
“Oh yes, he’s a big dog in a little body. He’s got the most expressive eyes and a beautiful smile.” I rolled my eyes to express disgust at anyone who described her dog’s smile.
The smell inside the ugly concrete structure was two parts antiseptic and one part nervous animal. A woman in a green shirt that said Animal Control looked up.
“Help you?”
“I’m looking for a dog.”
Her expression brightened. “Any special type of dog? We have lots of animals here for adoption. Oh. Or did you lose a dog?”
I thought for a moment. “I have a friend who lost a dog.”
“He would have to claim it himself.”
“That could be a proble
m. Does it cost money?”
“There is a fee and of course the boarding costs since we’ve housed the animal for him. And if he can’t provide proof of vaccination, he’ll have to pay for those, too, before we release the animal.”
She looked at me shrewdly. “If you were interested in adopting a dog, you could adopt one for as little as fifty dollars.”
Crap, that was expensive. Still, I got what she was saying. It’s cheaper to adopt back your own dog than bail him out. “That’s very reasonable.”
She smiled broadly. “Let me show you the dogs. We have so many animals here in need.”
“I’m looking for a little dog. One that could live in an apartment.”
I followed her back through heavy doors that made me think of a jail. “The dogs are this way. We house the cats separately.”
“I’m sure they appreciate that.”
As she led me back into the kennels, the nervous animal smell grew stronger. I tried not to wrinkle my nose. And the noise. Dear heaven, the noise when she opened the door. Dogs of all shapes and sizes barked and yelped. Their howls echoed off the walls of the concrete bunker.
Once inside, I could see it really was a jail, a doggy jail. The inmates all rushed the bars, clamoring to be taken out. I’ve never seen so many dogs in one place. Corinne floated off past me, flitting anxiously about. “Billy? Mommy’s here. Billy?”
“Take a look around,” said the animal control gal loudly over the din. “See if anyone takes your fancy. We’ve got an adoption room, where you can spend a little time with any dog you might be interested in.”
“I don’t see him,” Corinne said.
“Are there any more dogs?”
The woman looked at me like I was crazy. How could anyone want more dogs than this? “Maybe in the infirmary. But those dogs aren’t available. We don’t adopt out sick animals.”
“I really want a small dog.”
“You and everybody else.” She walked past cages of large, shaggy creatures, down to the end of the row. “We’ve got a couple of dachshunds. And a little schnauzer. He’s old, but very sweet. He’d make a perfect apartment dog.”
“My sister has a pug,” I lied. “I’m very partial to pugs.”
She looked at me curiously. “There is a pug. But we took him to the infirmary.”
The First Ghost Page 3