by Moray, Tabby
“Stop doing that! Stop just appearing!” She nervously fingered the fine links of the moonstone butterfly necklace sitting comfortingly in the hollow of her throat.
“How else am I supposed to show up? It’s not like I can ring a bell or anything. Or can I?” She disappeared for a few seconds. Reappearing, she said, “Did you hear that?”
“Nooo.”
“I made a chiming sound three times.” She looked puzzled, then shrugged. “Huh, guess I can’t make audible sounds on this plane without appearing first.”
“Well, maybe try fading in gradually or something…Hell—I don’t know! What do you want anyway?”
“I just wanted to make sure everything went smoothly.”
“Everything will go just fine if you’d stop appearing out of nowhere.” She carefully pulled into the intersection when the light turned green, her nerves jangling with adrenaline. Then after a pause: “How is it that your hair is blowing in the wind when you’re a ghost?”
“Special effects.”
“Special effects?”
“Yup. In case you hadn’t already figured it out, I’m a unique spirit. Not quite like others.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Dina grumbled. “I thought I’d be getting away from you for a while, but here you are again.”
“Just wanted to give you a few last minute pointers.”
“You’ve already given me plenty of pointers. Starting with: you need to date my fiancé, or else.”
“I thought I’d give you a little time to yourself to get over all that, but here we go again,” she said with a labored sigh.
“You might be fine with being bullied around by paranormal specters, but I’m not.” The sight of a spindly grey heron standing still and quiet as he fished for breakfast amongst the cattails, did nothing to calm her nerves as she drove across an overpass.
“I’m not bullying you, Dina. In my own way I’m trying to do the right thing,” she said, plucking at something Dina couldn’t see, her face tight and pensive.
“I’m sure you understand why I wish you’d done that on your watch instead of mine.”
“Me too.” Her voice was sad as she looked out the window, her fingers reaching for a weaving yellow and black butterfly that fluttered right through her fingers.
“Where’d you go on Sunday?” Dina asked, changing subjects.
“I was hanging out with Jimi Hendrix and Jelly Roll Morton. Jelly was trying to teach me how to play the piano and Jimi was tutoring me on the fine details of the electric guitar.”
“What was that like?” Dina breathed, staring at her in the rearview mirror.
“No, I’m bullshitting,” she admitted with a grin.
“I can’t take anything you say seriously.” Dina rolled her eyes, feeling foolish that she’d been taken in so easily.
“What’s a little joke between friends?”
“I’d hardly say we were friends.”
“We will be friends when you stop holding back. Many people have told me I’m great company. A good listener.”
“Were they all dead?”
“Very funny. Anyway, in answer to your question, I was in that in between place I go to when I need to regroup. Being on this plane takes a lot of energy. But that would’ve been cool, right? Hanging out with two famous dead dudes?”
Refusing to respond to anymore of her mindless chatter, they drove the remaining several minutes in silence, Sam the ghost humming an off-key tune that drove Dina nuts.
“So, just to recap--,” the ghost said, as she pulled into a parking space alongside a somber, partially bricked one story building. Two flags, one for the state of Georgia and another for the United States, fluttered in front of the building. She leaned forward, her arms running across the back of the driver’s seat. “Arnie loves brunettes, even though your hair runs a bit closer to copper, you’re gorgeous so that’s okay. But you should’ve worn your hair out. Do you always keep it up in that stale hairstyle?”
“It’s practical,” she said, defensively touching her braid.
“That’s the problem. Anyway, we’ll do something about that later.” Dina shifted uneasily, wondering what that meant. “He loves going out on his boat and fishing. That’s where you’ll find him during most of his free time. He has two cats: Buzz and Saw. They’re brothers. He loves them like they’re his own kids. He’s lactose intolerant but he loves ice cream. If you can, either keep him away from it or have plenty of Bean-o available for the unpleasant aftereffects.”
“Eww.”
“Exactly.”
“Do I really need to know all of this out the gate? When most people go on a blind date they don’t know this many personal details about the person they’re seeing.”
“They do if they go on one of those dating websites. I remember I was scrolling through profiles on this one site and this guy said he preferred girls who would suck his toes and go down on him. Needless to say, he never got a response from me.”
“Okaaaay.”
“One last thing, Arnie’s really good at board games and he’s very competitive, but fair. He’s brainy and clever--,”
“I know. You already told me this.” She tapped her fingers against the steering wheel impatiently.
“—and that’s why I fell in love with him,” she finished as though she hadn’t interrupted her. “So there, you have everything you need to get started.”
Then, just like that, she was gone.
“No—I have everything I need for the first year of a relationship,” she muttered to herself.
As she got out of the car and walked toward the double doors of the front entrance, a sudden gust of wind whipped around her head. Her braid blew loose, hair tumbling over her ears and forehead in a tangled heap. The flowing, knee-length skirt she’d painstakingly chosen for the morning’s interview blew straight up, obscuring her vision and making her trip over her own feet. Mortified, she furiously tried batting it down, but the damned thing remained stubbornly around her head. Feeling like a less sexy version of Marilyn Monroe in The Seven Year Itch, she finally managed to wrestle the blasted material back where it belonged. Catcalls, loud whistles and appreciative male chuckles from a gaggle of cops, proclaimed that they’d all witnessed the entire incident.
“Damn you, Sam!” she hissed. A faint giggle sounded off to her right.
Head held high, Dina marched the rest of the way to the double doors, face still burning with embarrassment. An austere, glassed-in reception area with glossy white tiled floors, low, white-tiled ceilings, glaring florescent strip-lighting, and a bored looking desk sergeant who was studiously reading a Lee Childs novel, faced the entrance.
As she stepped just inside the door, a few guys smirked at her, elbowing each other and snickering as she walked past. It felt just like freshman year in high school, walking through the middle of the cafeteria with her dress unknowingly bunched up above her waist, plump bottom exposed for all to see. Still humiliated by the memory, she forcibly reminded herself that she was no longer a fat teenager with low self-esteem and no friends, she was a successful businesswoman in her own right who was now a brand new homeowner.
“I’m here to see Chief Childress.” Dina stopped before the desk, looking up at the desk sergeant through the security glass. The sergeant, an older gentleman with pale, freckled skin and thinning brown hair, was seated on a stool, appearing none too interested in her presence or anyone else’s. Moving with the speed of a sloth, he placed the book face down on the desk and looked up, his eyes owlish through a thick pair of bifocals.
“How can I help you?” His eyes wandered slowly to her hair, his bushy grey-speckled eyebrows drooping in a confused frown.
“I’m here for an interview with Chief Childress,” she clarified, running a hand self-consciously over her tresses.
“Is he expecting you?” The sergeant’s big eyes ran over her hair again, his expression conveying doubt.
“Yes, he is.”
“Hold on one
moment, please.” Picking up the phone, he dialed an extension, turned his back on her and spoke in a low voice. Nodding his head, he hung up the phone then turned back to her, “Last office on the left.”
“Thanks.”
Giving her another skeptical look, he pressed a button and a buzzing noise sounded, the door to his right opening to lead to the interior offices. Feeling inexplicably nervous, she walked through the door, shaking off the feeling of being summoned to the principal’s office. She darted into the first bathroom she saw, shoving the door open and slamming it behind her. Rushing over to the mirror she squeaked at the birds nest sitting atop her head like a bipolar tornado.
“Here--let me help you with that.” Sam the ghost appeared by her side, finger combing her hair.
“Didn’t I tell you to leave already!” she hissed. “I don’t need your help. Your help is why I’m in this situation to begin with.” Dina swatted at the ghosts hands—ineffectively, of course—trying to re-braid it without great success.
“You don’t have enough time for that.” Sam expertly fluffed her hair out, making it fall around her shoulders in thick, shining waves. “There, that’s perfect.”
“No thanks to you,” Dina grumbled, leaning close to the mirror and reluctantly admiring Sam’s handiwork.
“All thanks to me.” Sam leaned against the sink, looking around. “Hey, did you know you were in the men’s room? I mean, I’m liberal and all, but this seems to be a bit much.”
“What?” She finally looked around, the row of urinals on the wall behind her sitting pretty as can be. “Oh, my gosh,” she moaned in a low, horrified voice.
One of the stall doors opened and a stocky, raven-haired man barely gracing six feet tall, walked out. His skin had the faint red undertones of a Native American, his obsidian eyes cautious and wary as he looked around. With his narrow nose and high cheekbones, he was rather handsome in an offbeat kind of way. Dressed in plainclothes, he toted a gun on his hip, his thick, jet black hair brushing the collar of his shirt as he bent down over the sink.
“Came in the wrong bathroom. I’m—I’m just going to be leaving--,” Dina said, edging towards the door. Sam had vanished into thin air. Finally.
“You were talking to someone,” he said in a conversational tone as he pumped a dollop of soap onto his hands then ran the water full blast, vigorously soaping them under the gushing water. He pinned her with his coal black eyes and a totally unexpected tingle ran through her, strange too, considering she was standing inside of a men’s bathroom having a conversation with an unknown man. “Where is she?”
“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m in here all alone. Isn’t one girl in the men’s bathroom enough?” she asked with a dry laugh, trying for offhand humor while trying to figure out how the hell to get out of this awkward conversation. Her fingers had somehow found their way back to the necklace, and she nervously massaged the butterfly as if it were some sort of talisman that could ward off evil.
“No, there were definitely two distinct female voices in here. Yours and the other woman. She sounded awfully familiar…” he said, trailing off with a slight frown. He dried his hands on a couple of paper towels, wadding them up and tossing them in the garbage, his face filled with the suspicion of a cop rooting out a lie. Still looking at her, he began rapidly opening the stalls until he’d gone through all four save the one he’d been in. “I know I heard another voice.” He was mystified, peering around as though this other woman would just appear out of thin air. Hell, maybe she would.
“No, it was just me.” Her words lacked conviction, but before he could ask any further questions, she rushed the conversation to the end. “I have somewhere I need to be, sooo byyeee!” Wiggling her fingers like a reality star moron, she finally managed to make her escape.
Looking at the old school, large-faced clock in the hallway, she saw that she was seven minutes late to a meeting she’d never wanted to have. Fantastic, now she’d look unprofessional.
Taking a deep breath, she opened the chief’s door, hoping nothing else went wrong.
**
“I look forward to seeing you next Monday, Ms. Douglass.” Chief Childress smiled as he stood up and walked around his desk, grabbing her hand and pumping it enthusiastically, his sharp blue eyes twinkling as she rose from her chair. A tall, solidly built man with a barrel of a chest and a thick, hearty laugh, he had a habit of running his fingers through the thinning hair atop his glossy pate. He’d also taken far more notice than she would’ve preferred of her legs, and oddly enough, her feet.
“Me too. And I’ll make sure to send over that schedule no later than Wednesday.” Dina moved back, trying to put some space between she and the captain who was of the ‘close-talker’ variety of folk.
“And you’re sure it won’t be a problem squeezing us into your classes? Being a celebrity and all, I’m surprised your classes aren’t completely booked up.” He looked down at her, his face so close to her own, the breath leaving his open mouth made her hair sway rhythmically around her temples. She stepped back again and he shifted slightly forward. Alright, it was time to make a quick exit.
“They’re full now,” she said with a nervous laugh. She shifted restlessly on her feet, trying to find a way to wrap this too long conversation up. “I’m excited about this opportunity. See you on Monday.” She made a grab for the doorknob, rolling her eyes when the persistently friendly captain followed her out into the hallway, his eyes darting up and down her shapely figure, his gaze landing on her feet, then guiltily meandering their way back to her rapidly cooling eyes.
“Ahh—Detective Nichols,” he hailed over her head. “Come over and meet the woman that’ll be whipping us into shape over the next few months.”
She turned her head, frowning in consternation as the Man from the Bathroom ambled toward them, his dark eyes amused.
Detective Nichols? As in the Barney Nichols, Sam the Ghost’s fiancé? Perhaps there was more than one Detective Nichols in the police department, she thought with a sinking feeling. It was a hopeful thought, but one she couldn’t quite convince herself was true. Could she be so unlucky? The answer was: yes, of course she could. But on the bright side, while it hadn’t exactly been the way she’d planned to make her introductions, maybe recusing herself from this preposterous mission would be that much easier.
“I do believe we’ve already met,” he drawled, mockingly.
“You two know each other?” Captain Childress asked curiously, looking back and forth between the two of them.
“In a sense.” The detective looked at her, then grinned slyly, his teeth a white flash against his reddish-brown skin. “We sort of bumped into one another unexpectedly. But I never caught her name.”
“Dina Douglass.” She stuck her hand out and he shook it, his grip strong and confident.
“Detective Barney Nichols. Nice to finally know your name.”
“I already know yours,” she muttered beneath her breath.
“Pardon me?” he said,
“I said it’s nice to meet you,” she said, raising her voice and smiling.
“Umm-hmm,” he said, his eyes narrowing, his expression telling her he didn’t quite know what to make of her.
“Dina here will be the exercise coordinator for our new fitness initiative. As you see, Detective Nichols here is one of the reasons we decided we needed a fitness initiative to begin with.” The captain took it upon himself to rub the detective’s rounded belly as though he were a Buddha statue. “A few too many coffee and doughnuts and everything in between.” The captain chortled heartily, clapping the detective on the back.
“I will certainly be taking part,” Detective Nichols muttered with a tight, controlled smile. He shifted self-consciously and stood up straighter in a futile attempt to make his stomach disappear.
“Also, she’s a bit of a celebrity around here so we’re lucky to have even snagged.”
“Anything for our local law enforcement,” Dina d
emurred. “You guys do so much for us it’s nice to be able to return the favor.”
“A celebrity, huh?”
“It’s not really a big deal. Just an exercise video that I debuted a few months ago.” Though she knew she should be pushing the video any opportunity she got, she was loathe to do so, her natural personality that of a person who preferred the focus be on someone or something else.
“So then you’re semi-famous?” He crossed his arms, peering down at her with an expression that had gone from curious to disdainful.
“Not really. No. What—you have something against celebrities?” Now she was the one standing up straighter, her chin lifted in a challenge.
“I find that they can be flighty…and unreliable.”
“So you have experience with celebrities? Personal experience?”
“Celebrities and semi-celebrities alike. They come out to the island and expect to be waited on hand and foot. They think the police department is their own personal security firm. They’re a real pain in the ass,” he stated, his tone blunt and straightforward.
“Good to know how you really feel,” she said, sarcastically.
“Anyway, nice to meet you.” With a curt nod of his head he strode off.
Before he was out of earshot Dina raised her voice, saying, “I hope you’re ready for Monday ‘cause after I’m done with you you’ll have more than one reason to hate this semi-celebrity,” her tone sweet and threatening. She was rewarded with a slant-eyed scowl just before he disappeared from view.
“Sorry about that.” Captain Childress stared after the detective confused. “He’s normally a pretty mild guy. Maybe he’s having a bad week…”
Or maybe he’s feeling a little touchy because you rubbed his belly like a fortune teller’s crystal ball, Dina thought.
Out loud she said, “No problem. The detective is probably just nervous about what I’m about to put him through.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
The drive over to the exercise studios she leased was less than a thirty minute drive from the police department. Sam the Ghost was mysteriously absent. Good for her because she would’ve gotten a royal piece of her mind.