by Unknown
“Oh, no.” Hovering a few inches above the floor, Pammy drifted forward, again wringing her hands together. “She was the star. Not me.”
“Sweetie, you could act circles around her. Everybody knew it.” Arlene took a long tug on her cigarette and then blew out. “And so did Carolyn.”
Silence filled the room while the younger ghost absorbed what her friend had said. Not sure what was going on inside her head, I waited for her to speak first. We needed these two, especially Pammy. Hopefully, she’d remember something that would help us reap Samuel Parker. Though Arlene seemed to think he’d finally realized the gem of an actress he had in Pammy, I was more of the mind that he’d lured her to the empty theater that night under the guise of fulfilling her dreams. With opening night looming, what actress wouldn’t put in overtime? Plus, she’d been young and gullible. Murder had probably been the last thing on Pammy’s mind the night she was killed.
She snuffled again, breaking the hush in the room. “I didn’t even get to perform.”
My heart went out to her. “I’m sorry.” The gown I still wore swished along the floor when I edged toward her. “We can’t turn back time, but we can help you figure out who killed you.” Stopping a few feet away, I held out my arms and smiled. “And afterward, we can help you cross over. I bet there’s a big stage on the other side just waiting for you.”
“Yeah?” she asked.
“Yeah.” I had no idea what when on once a spirit passed, but if anybody deserved happiness in the afterlife it was Pammy. “So…” I said, making a full circle back to Nate’s previous question. “Can you remember anything at all about that night?”
Her translucent body paced back and forth in front of me. At least, I assumed she was pacing, but everything below her knees was transparent. “I was on stage practicing my lines.” She stopped and closed her eyes. “The only lights were the spotlights and I couldn’t see much beyond the orchestra pit.” Her eyes popped open. “Cologne. The kind Mr. Parker wore. I smelled it right before someone choked the life out of me.”
“Well—” Again I glanced at Nate. “That seems a bit incriminating.”
“Just a little.” He straightened and stood. “Did you see who strangled you, Pammy? Or maybe got a glimpse of their hands or shoes?”
“No.” Again she wrapped her hands protectively around her neck. “I was so panicked; all I could think about was trying to get a breath. One minute I was clutching at the wire around my neck and the next…” Taking a deep breath, she hesitated. “Then I woke up dead.”
There are spirits that deserve to be dead, either for being violent or stupid. Not Pammy. She’d deserved a happy life. Instead, she’d spent nearly seventy years haunting the old theater, trying to find out who killed her. When I moved to stand in front of her, she didn’t retreat. It appeared we were finally building trust.
I gripped her shoulders, which was a perk of being a grim reaper. “We’re going to help you figure this out.”
“See, honey,” Arlene said behind me. “I told you everything would work out.”
“Arlene is right, so don’t worry, okay?” I said, adding an extra dose of I knew what the hell I was doing.
She nodded. “Okay.”
“You guys stay here,” Nate said, moving toward the door. “I’m going to do a sweep of the stage.”
I released the ghost and followed him. “Should I come?”
“No.” His eyes darted from Pammy to me. “Stay here and see if you can get her to remember anything.”
“What about not leaving me alone?” Crossing my arms over my chest, I leveled a stare at him and spoke through gritted teeth. “You know, the whole killing me thing?”
He glanced at his watch and back to me. “It’s only seven o’clock. From what we’ve learned, I doubt he’ll make an appearance before midnight. But just in case, stay here.” He pulled open the door. “I won’t be long.”
Sometimes my life is too weird for even me to believe. This was one of those times. The door clicked shut behind Nate and I slowly turned back to the room and its occupants. “I guess it’s just the three of us now.”
Arlene lifted the cigarette, then slipped it between her lips, and sucked on the end. The damn thing was like something from the adult version of Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory. The Never-ending Cigarette. What I wish I had right now was the never-ending wine bottle. When I died, that’s what I was going to wish for in the afterlife, an Unemptying Wine Bottle that never goes dry—and yoga pants that made me look like Heidi Klum. Pammy continued to hover in the corner, but at least she was smiling.
Stop a serial killer, solve a murder, don’t get killed, yep, that about summed up my life.
5
“Do you have a favorite costume, Pammy?” I asked, trying to stimulate conversation.
“Oh, yes.” She floated forward and stopped at a small rack sitting away from the other wardrobe. Her hand drifted over the dusty white cloth bag hanging on the end. “I never got a chance to wear it, but I’d always hoped I would.”
“What is it?” Not sure the ghost could heft the bulky bag, I lifted the garment. “It’s heavy.” I pulled the black zipper down and around the cover. The front flap peeled away to reveal a red and gold velvet gown. “Wow, that is beautiful.”
“My best work.” Arlene drifted forward, stopped, and rested her crossed arms over her round stomach, a smile tugging at her lips. “It was for Romeo and Juliet, but Mr. Parker scrapped the play after Pammy died.”
“Was that the play you were supposed to perform in?” I asked.
“Yes.” Her hand caressed the puffy sleeve, her gaze distant and wistful. “I was going to play Juliet, and Mikey Horn was going to play Romeo.” The ghost gave a deep longing sigh. “He’s so dreamy.”
“I agree that Mikey is a good-looking kid,” Arlene said, “But sweetie, I’m pretty sure he bats for the other team.”
Pammy’s face scrunched up in confusion. “I don’t think Mikey ever played baseball.”
“What I mean is, if Mikey had his choice, the play would be called Romeo and Julian.” Arlene took a long tug on her cigarette and then blew out. “Understand?”
The actress’s eyes narrowed. “Huh?”
“He’s gay,” I blurted. Hopefully, my bluntness wouldn’t offend her mid-century sensibilities. “He likes guys.” When she continued to stare at me, I added, “Like likes. Get it?”
“Oh yeah.” She smiled sheepishly and waved my statement away. “I know, but maybe he hasn’t met the right woman yet.”
“As long as the woman is a man, then yeah,” I said.
A raspy laugh ground from the seamstress. “Good one.”
“It’s possible, negative Nelly,” Pammy continued, glowering at her friend. “Anyway, I guess I’ll never know what it feels like to play Juliet.”
One of these days I’d learn to keep my mouth shut, but today wasn’t the day. Her look of desolation and yearning badgered me to make a colossal suggestion. “Why don’t you put on Romeo and Juliet here?”
“Oh no, I couldn’t do that,” Pammy said. “Besides, tonight is Miss Turner’s Midnight Spectacular.”
“What is that?” I rehung the gown and zipped the bag again.
“Every Halloween Miss Turner performs a one-woman play she wrote about being a young starlet in Hollywood,” Pammy said.
“Performs is a strong verb for what she does to that role.” As if she had a bad taste in her mouth, Arlene smacked her lips a couple of times. “More like hacked it to pieces.”
“Anyway—” Pammy shot the older woman a look of disapproval. “Everybody buys tickets to the Midnight Spectacular, so what’s the point?”
“The point is,” Arlene said, cutting me off, “It doesn’t matter what play is being performed, just that something is showing. I guarantee they’d rather watch you as Juliet than sit through seven acts of Carolyn Turner’s pretentious attempt at playing a naïve farm girl in Hollywood.”
“Do you really think so?�
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“Of course,” I chimed in. Maybe putting on Romeo and Juliet would keep everybody occupied, plus, draw Samuel Parker out of the shadows. “There’s probably a lot to do before midnight.”
“First of all, we need to round up the other actors.” Arlene swirled away from us and glided across the room. “They’ll all need to be fitted.”
“I’ll go find Mikey.” Clapping her hands, Pammy bounced up and down, emitting high-pitched squeal. “He’ll be so excited.
“And tell the other actors, too,” the seamstress admonished, “Right? Not just Mikey.”
“Of course, I’ll ask the others.” Before disappearing through the wall, Pammy added, “But, Mikey first.”
Without slowing her glide, Pammy melted through the barrier, leaving me alone with Arlene. “That’s a handy trick.”
“Dopey broad.” Shaking her head, Arlene rifled through the racks of costumes. “Bless her innocent heart.”
“I’m going to change clothes.” I had no idea what it took to put on a play, but with my luck, I’d somehow get dragged into doing the heavy lifting. Best to make myself scarce before somebody found a job for me. “After that I’m going to find Nate.”
“Didn’t Mr. Nate say you should wait here?”
“Yeah, well, I don’t always do what Mr. Nate says.” I plastered on a reassuring smile. Midnight was still hours away and it was probably still safe to walk around the theater alone. “Much to his dismay.”
She gave me a worried look—well—maybe her expression waned on the side of ambiguous boredom more than worry. “Whatever you say, doll.” A pile of velvets and brocades amassed in the center of a long table as she sorted the costumes. “I’ll be here doing what I do best.”
“Roger that.” I stepped behind the screen and stripped out of the blue gown, climbing back into my reliable reaperwear. “I’ll check back in a bit.” I walked to the door and gripped the handle. “Break a leg.”
Arlene’s barking laughter followed me out the door. Unable to help myself, I smiled. She might be a gruff old bird, but I couldn’t help liking the master seamstress and her curt personality.
Once in the hallway, I glanced at my watch. Where was Nate? He’d been gone way longer than it took to investigate the stage area. My stomach tightened against the idea of walking through the theater alone, but I needed to make sure he was all right. After all, facing harrowing circumstances was part of the partner code. Well, actually it wasn’t. I made that up. Clearly, we didn’t have a partner code since he wouldn’t even high-five me, but, once we were finished with this job I was definitely going to create one, mainly because I was usually the one in trouble.
My boots clicked against the black and white tile squares of the floor as I moved down the corridor. I passed the first room on the right. The door stood open, but it was dark inside, making it impossible to see more than a foot into the room. I picked up my pace and shuffled past.
“Pssst.”
The sound hissed from behind me and I whirled, striking a ninja pose, but nobody was there. I waited. “Hello?”
“Pssst,” the voice came again. “In here.”
Right, like I was going to fall for that again. “I don’t think so.” In case something or someone planned on flying out of the darkness at me, I inched backward. “Who’s there?”
Fear wasn’t a rational thing. I was a grim reaper and could manhandle just about any spirit and deliver them to my porter, but right now all I wanted to do was turn tail and run.
The faint image of a woman wavered inside the doorway. Even before she’d fully formed, the frizzy hair and gigantic glasses gave her away. Evelyn Git.
I relaxed my stance and straightened, lowering my arms. “Hello.”
The ghost solidified. She rested her shoulder against the doorframe. “I heard what you said in there, about the performance.”
My mind hadn’t quite caught up to the situation. “Performance?”
“Yeah, yeah.” She swooped her hand in a circle. “You know, the kid playing Juliet.” Her chin lowered and she stared at me through the dark line of the brown gradient tint of her glasses. “I want in.”
Evelyn didn’t strike me as the actress type, especially as an Elizabethan performer. “You want a part in the play?”
“Jesus, no.” She drifted toward me, her hands gesturing with each word she spoke. The hint of a New York accent laced her words, and with her dark Jackie O glasses and large gold hoop earrings, she looked like she stepped right off the page of a 1970’s celebrity magazine. “I’m a society girl. I’ve got connections and can make this play huge.”
“Okay.” I’m not sure how I’d become the go-to person for the production, but it was par for the course. “Knock yourself out.”
“Excellent.” She smiled, gesturing with her hands. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen any action.”
No time like the present to collect some info. “Evelyn Git—” I pointed at her. “Right?”
“You’ve heard of me?” When she smiled, her eyes widened and deep lines creased the corners of her mouth. She pressed her boney fingers against her chest. “How delightful.”
“Who hasn’t heard of Evelyn Git?” I said, playing on the ghost’s ego. “Anchorage socialite, one-time owner of the City Center Theater, a woman ahead of her time.”
“I was, wasn’t I?” Propping her fists on her hips, she continued. “Those were the days. Parties, drugs, booze.” She gave a contented sigh. “Good times.” Her smile faded, and she lifted her shoulders in a single shrug. “Then I died.”
“Yeah, I remember reading about that. I’m really sorry.”
“Thank you, that’s nice of you to say.” She shrugged again. “What are you gonna do? Everybody dies.”
“Do you recall what happened that night, Evelyn? If I remember right, it was during your annual Halloween party.”
“Was it ever.” The smile popped back on her face. “I’d had parties at the theater before, but that one was by far the best.” She closed the distance between us, stopping about a foot away. It was far enough that she didn’t hit me with her hand gestures when she spoke, but too close for personal comfort. “It was the grandest costume party Anchorage had ever seen. I mean people put some serious effort into their get-ups.”
“It sounds wonderful.” After her hand narrowly missed slicing through my arm, I eased back a few inches. When reaping, I use what’s called intent to capture to hold onto a spirit. But if I’m not reaping, ghosts usually pass right through me, which feels like an icy blade cutting into my skin. Not fun, so I avoid casual contact as much as possible. “And the theater, did you have that all decorated?”
“Of course,. I’d gone all out and hired a company out of Seattle to come up. They did everything from decorations to catering.” She lifted her arms in a kind of jazz hands pose, and her voice lengthened into a singsong note. “Faaaabulous.”
“So…what happened?” I gave her a tight but sympathetic smile. “Do you remember how you died?”
Her exuberance dissolved into a conspiratorial whisper and she leaned toward me. “A ghost.”
I hadn’t expected such a concise answer. “Really?”
“Yep. A real live ghost.”
Her comment hit me as ironic. One, because ghosts weren’t alive. As a matter of fact, they are the opposite. And two, because she herself was a ghost, but I withheld my observation. “Did you see him when he killed you?”
“No.” She frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. “But earlier that night, before I was murdered, I’d been flirting with a very handsome gentleman ghost.”
It had to be Samuel Parker. The fact that Evelyn was killed a few hours later would be too much of a coincidence for it not to be him. “What did he look like?”
“Black hair, dark eyes.”
Hands that fit nicely around your neck? It sure sounded like Parker from her vague description. “So, you actually spoke to him?”
“Oh yes.” The fingers of her right
hand caressed her neck and she sighed. “He told me he had been the original owner of the building and was happy it was being used again. I assured him of my plans to reopen the theater, which seemed to make him happy.”
“I bet.” Then he’d have a fresh supply of blondes to choose from when the murdering mood struck. “Evelyn, do you think he was the one that murdered you?”
Her eyes rounded. “Good God, no. He was too polite and good looking to be a killer.”
What was it with these female spirits? Just because a person was polite and handsome didn’t mean he wouldn’t take the first chance to strangle them. “Was there another ghost?”
“Tons.” Her hands swooped up in and arc. “They were all over the theater. Like I said, best Halloween party ever.” She lowered her hands and crossed her arms again. “But I never saw who murdered me. Choked me from behind with some kind of a wire.” She snapped her fingers. “I was gone like that.”
Most spirits seemed to have a cavalier attitude about their deaths. A lot of them talked about their demise as if it happened to somebody else. What I’d learned since becoming a reaper was that being dead was a lot like being alive, business as usual. How they died was what scared people most. Strangulation was not high on my best ways to die list.
“Anything else you remember? Perfume? Did you see the killer’s hands or shoes?”
“No, but then again, I was blotto by that time.” She paused and tapped her index finger against her lip. “It was exactly midnight. I remember hearing the clock in the foyer chime.” Her arms lowered, her shoulders sagging. “I never realized that before.”
Weird. Pammy was killed around midnight too. It seemed Parker had a whole murder at midnight thing going on. “Maybe tonight we’ll be able to figure out who’s responsible for your death.”
“I don’t care who did it.” She waved a hand at me. “What’s done is done.”
“If you don’t want to know who murdered you, why are you still hanging around the theater?” Normally, unfinished business kept spirits tied to the physical realm.