by Terri Garey
She turned down his offer with a shake of the head, eyeing me oddly. "You were telling the truth in the car, weren't you?"
I couldn't help it. I looked at Evan and he looked at me.
"We really do see dead people." Kelly was very calm, considering. "I have to go back to the mortuary."
Hot coffee sloshed over the rim of my cup, wetting my fingers. I held it away so it didn't drip on my shoes.
"Oh, no, you don't."
"Oh yes, I do," Kelly said. I recognized that stubborn look on her face as similar to one I'd seen in a mirror, many times. "I didn't tell you the whole truth." She rolled farther into the room. "He asked me to go to the visitation this afternoon. He wants me to talk to his wife."
I put down my coffee mug with a groan.
"You… you see them, too?" Evan breathed. He didn't have to say who "them" was.
Kelly glanced anxiously at Evan, her eyes begging him to be honest. "You'd tell me if this was all a big joke, right? 'Cause if this is all an act to get rid of me, you guys are going to way too much trouble." She looked at me again. "All you have to do is tell me the truth. I'm a big girl, I can take it."
"I did tell you the truth!" Dammit. "You're the one who lied!"
Evan made an exasperated noise. "Calm down, ladies." He stepped between us, helping himself to my rapidly cooling coffee. He took a sip, then grimaced, preferring it black. "Let me get this straight. You went to the funeral home and you both saw a ghost?"
Kelly didn't answer, so I nodded.
"Only not the same one?"
I nodded again, miserable.
"Oh my." Evan leaned against the desk, one Prada shoe crossed casually over the other. "You girls sure know how to put the 'fun' back in 'funeral.'"
* * *
CHAPTER 5
The parking lot of Forest Lawn Mortuary was packed with cars. All these people had come to pay their respects to Keith Gerard Morgan—local city councilman, admired businessman, and upstanding citizen. Evan had managed to dig the obituary out of the morning paper, and it seemed like Morgan was a pretty popular guy. If I had my way, there could easily be two less people at his bon voyage party.
Unfortunately, it didn't look like I was gonna get my way.
"You don't understand, Nicki." Kelly was trying to explain why she was honor-bound to help a rich sleaze-bag buy his way into Heaven. We pulled into a parking space at the far edge of the lot. "Keith is Catholic, and Catholics believe in Purgatory."
"Keith?" I raised an eyebrow at her. "You're on a first name basis with the dearly departed now?" I was still kinda pissed that she'd lied to me. I'd told her my biggest secret and ended up feeling like a fool—not a feeling I was particularly fond of.
Kelly sighed. "He came to see me again, while you and Evan were waiting on customers."
"I thought you were lying down on the couch in the back room."
"I tried to. Anyway, Keith can't move on from Purgatory until he's been cleansed of his sins, and because he died so suddenly, there was no time for confession or last rites. The only way he can be forgiven now is if regular Masses and prayers are offered on his behalf." She gave me a meaningful look. "Lots of them."
"If you've got some weird idea that I'm gonna start going to Mass and praying for this guy, you better think again." I popped the trunk and got out of the car. Retrieving Kelly's wheelchair and getting her into it took a minute, but we were already better at maneuvering than we'd been that morning. "I've never been to confession in my life, and I'm sure not gonna start now—I've got too many things to confess, some of which I haven't even done yet."
Kelly shook her head. "Don't worry. Your sins are your own problem."
I shot her a glance, but her expression was bland. What did she know about my sins? Probably didn't have any of her own, the little goody two-shoes.
"Listen, Kelly, there's something I haven't told you." I leaned a hip against the car while she settled herself into the wheelchair, then I reluctantly told her about my visits from Peaches.
"You've seen Peaches twice, and you didn't tell me?" Kelly's voice was a little shaky.
I sighed. "It's not exactly an easy thing to blurt out. I would've never told you at all except there's something you need to know. The first time she came because she wanted me to find you, but the second time she came to give me a warning."
Silence. Kelly's throat worked as she swallowed, hard.
Then, "She gave you a warning?"
"She said some guy was gonna show up and start lying, and that we shouldn't believe a word he says."
Kelly stared at me as if trying to decide whether I was telling the truth.
"And you think Keith Morgan is that guy?"
"I don't know," I snipped irritably. Her tone was a little too sarcastic for me. "But I do know that getting involved with restless spirits isn't always a good idea."
"I can't believe there's any danger involved in helping some poor guy get his dying wish, Nicki. All he wants is for his wife to have Masses held for his soul, Rosaries said for him, that kind of thing."
"Don't forget to throw in a few Hail Marys," I muttered, thinking Mr. Bigwig would need one or two of those to get past his ex-girlfriend and her "master." Morgan wasn't exactly the dedicated family man Kelly seemed to think he was.
She gave me a look. "I'm going inside and talking to Keith's widow. You can stay out here if you want to." She'd obviously made up her mind, and nothing I said was going to change it.
I sighed. "You really think you can help put this man's spirit to rest?" I didn't want to get involved, but I couldn't abandon a bruised-up woman in a wheelchair, no matter how much I was tempted. If Kelly was going inside, I was going inside.
"Of course I can." Kelly was taking this "good Samaritan" thing very seriously. "Keith left his wife a very wealthy woman. She can afford to make sure his slate is wiped clean."
I'd already started wheeling Kelly toward the funeral home, but this comment stopped me dead in my tracks. "Are you serious? You really think his wife can pay to have his sins removed? How? Buy a 'get into Heaven free' card?"
"They're called 'indulgences,'" she said. "The Catholic Church can reduce Purgatory if they so choose, if they have a reason to."
"And you know all this how?" Not only did it sound complicated, it sounded ridiculous.
"Santo Domingo is predominantly Catholic, Nicki. I worked with the nuns to establish a school in the fishing village where I lived. When you're surrounded by a certain culture, you pick up a lot without even realizing it."
"Do you actually believe someone can buy their way into Heaven?"
A note of irritation crept into her voice. "It doesn't matter if I believe it. Catholics believe it. Keith Morgan believes it." She smoothed her hair as we approached the front door. "It's complicated."
"Sounds like a big fat bribe to me."
That was the last thing I said before the front door was opened by a somber man in a suit. He held it for us until Kelly and I were inside.
Forest Lawn looked a lot different when there were live bodies walking around. The foyer was full of people chatting in low tones while organ music played above our heads—at a respectable level, of course. The somber man in the suit pointed us toward a table near the door, which held a big black guest book and a stack of leaflets. The leaflet was titled A LIFE WELL-LIVED—KEITH GERARD MORGAN—1959-2008, and had a picture of praying hands on the cover.
Kelly signed the guest book while I looked around, hoping against hope I wouldn't see a glamorously dressed blonde in Jimmy Choos. There was something very scary about that woman, and it wasn't just that she was already dead.
"Doesn't it even matter to you that your good buddy Keith was cheating on his wife?" I whispered, still scanning the foyer. "His girlfriend died in that same car accident, you know. I don't see a memorial to her around here anywhere."
Kelly laid down the pen and looked up at me from her wheelchair. "That's funny. You never struck me as the judgmental type—pa
rticularly when infidelity is involved."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I kept my voice down, but people were starting to give us curious looks anyway. Maybe it was the leather jacket. Kelly avoided my question by rolling toward the open doors of the Serenity Chapel. I wanted an answer, so I had no choice but to follow.
And immediately wished I hadn't.
A wide aisle led down the center of the chapel, a red-patterned runway to a raised, circular dais surrounded by flowers. There—in all its African mahogany, gilt-corniced splendor—rested the coffin that held the corpse of Keith Morgan. The guest of honor himself was in a semireclining position, as though he relaxed on an overstuffed lounge chair, sleeping in a suit. While I watched, a woman rose from a kneeler beside the coffin, leaned in, and kissed the dead guy right on the lips before she turned, weeping, toward a seat.
Ewwwwwwwwww.
Kelly wheeled her chair over to the end of a pew, and I took a seat next to her.
"I hope you're not accusing Joe of infidelity." I counted on the organ music to cover my whisper. "You were the one who left him, remember?"
There was a flash of anger in her eyes, but she blinked, and it died. "I know." She looked away, toward the front of the chapel.
I couldn't help it, even though I knew this wasn't the time. "Maybe if you hadn't been gone for four years, he wouldn't be dating anyone."
I wasn't gonna take the blame for this muddled mess we were in, though I was willing to take some of it.
Kelly didn't answer me this time, and I shut up. Sometimes that's all you can do.
Keith Morgan had been a good-looking man. Late forties, nice head of brownish red hair with only a touch of gray; very dignified. Black suit, burgundy tie. The matching silk pocket handkerchief was a nice touch.
"Nicki." A whisper, like a spider crawling over my skin.
I looked at Kelly, but the whisper hadn't come from her.
"Don't let her do it, Nicki."
Kelly didn't react. She didn't seem to hear it.
"That bastard doesn't deserve to go to Heaven."
The people around me were total strangers, and none of them were even looking at me. No sophisticated blondes with a bitter streak.
But I had no doubt who the voice belonged to.
" Who does your sister think she is, anyway? " Barbie was there, even though I couldn't see her at the moment. "Is she so perfect? She thinks that Keith should go to Heaven so he can end up with that mealy-mouthed wife of his. She thinks she can tie up the happily-ever-after with a big pink bow from Wal-Mart, and all that crap."
"Leave me alone," I murmured.
The whisper went from pissed to taunting in the blink of an eye. "Your sister wants her husband back."
I jerked in my seat, fighting the urge to answer. All I needed was to have people see me talking to myself.
"She still loves him, Nicki." Barbie's voice turned sly. "And she's jealous—she's jealous of you. She wants him back."
Automatically, I looked at Kelly. She was watching a group of people in the front row of the chapel. A dark-haired woman sat closest to the coffin, one arm around a teenage boy who slumped next to her. I couldn't see their faces.
"I can help you keep Joe away from her." The ugly whispers went on and on, clear as a bell despite the drone of organ music and the muffled sounds of grief. "If you help me first."
I shot up from my seat, drawing Kelly's attention.
"Excuse me. I have to go to the ladies' room."
Her eyes widened. "Now? Are you sure?"
I stepped past her without answering and hurried out of the chapel. The foyer was empty now, and the front door beckoned.
I hesitated, knowing it would be better to have it out with Psycho Barbie in private, but not looking forward to it.
"Leaving so soon?" The voice was lilting, almost playful, and no longer a whisper. "You'll miss the eulogy."
I turned, and there she was, smiling politely, as though at a cocktail party. The blond hair was perfectly styled, the makeup flawless.
"So will you," I said. I wasn't going to let her intimidate me, even if my knees were a little rubbery. I'd learned that lesson well with my former friend, Caprice.
Alive, Caprice had secretly been a voodoo priestess; dead, her dark side made it impossible to remain friends.
"Why don't you go in and disrupt the show?" I was bluffing, of course. "Blow out a few altar candles, knock over a few flower arrangements. You'll feel better."
Psycho Barbie glanced toward the chapel. Her eyes went straight to the cross above the altar, not to her boyfriend's coffin. A flash of something ugly crossed her face. "That's okay. I know what happens next." She turned away from the cross. There was that smirk again, quickly hidden behind a fake smile. "Keith's good-old-boy buddies will get up and blubber about golf games and good works. They won't mention the strip joints or the stag parties or the one-night stands. They'll talk about hunting trips and ski vacations, but they won't bother to explain how most business trips are just an excuse for middle-aged men to behave badly." Barbie took a step toward me on those gorgeous stilettos. "They'll blather on about how much Keith loved his family, but they won't say how they'd all known for years that he was cheating on his wife." Her perfect smile remained perfectly in place. "You can say it, though."
No way in Hell. "I'm not saying anything to anybody. I'm sorry, but it's over. You're dead."
Her smile didn't falter. "Death is only the beginning, Nicki."
"Revenge isn't going to help." I had no idea if anything would, but it wasn't my job to figure it out. Just because I could see and hear this woman didn't mean I could save her.
I had a feeling it was too late for that.
"I'm not interested in making deals with the Devil." I'd been to the Light, and I already knew I preferred it to the Dark. "Leave me alone."
Her features tightened. Her smile became a sneer, the look in her eye turning sharper, more measuring. By the time she spoke, I was afraid of what she might say.
"You're making a mistake." Her voice was different now; deeper, raspier. I was left with the feeling that someone—or something—else was behind that flawless mask of makeup.
Whatever it was, it had a great sense of fashion. Even scared shitless I couldn't help but admire that perfect little black dress.
"Go ahead," the Barbie doll said, "keep 'doing unto others.' Let's see how long you last. But remember—we're watching."
And she was gone. Just like that.
Gone.
We're watching? Just who was this we?
And did I really want to know?
"So you think the Devil made her do it?"
Poor Joe. He must be getting so tired of phone calls like this.
"I don't know." I was hunched miserably in the front seat of my car, watching the entrance to the funeral home. Keith Morgan's service had been going on for at least ten minutes. "I've got a bad feeling. The way her face changed was weird." I'd already told Joe the whole story about the cheating councilman and his pissed-off mistress. "All I know is that I'm not gonna help her. No way, no how."
I knew Joe was working and he had patients to see and prescriptions to write, and I didn't care.
I was nervous, in more ways than one.
"What about Kelly?" Joe's question was very matter-of-fact, and went straight to the heart of my nervousness.
What about her? "She's still inside. I think her plan was to chat with the widow, talk up the cheating husband, and get some money donated to the Church in his name."
"You're telling me that Kelly can see ghosts, just like you?"
No, I'm telling you to forget about Kelly and focus on me. Out loud, I said, "That's what I'm telling you." I paused, and couldn't resist a teeny bit of snarkiness. "Maybe she'll make another good case study for your paper on near death experiences."
"Maybe." Joe wasn't biting. "You left her in there by herself?"
"It's not like I abandoned her or anything. I just stepped outsid
e for a few minutes." This conversation wasn't going the way I wanted it to. "She's a big girl." A big girl in a wheelchair. "She's bound and determined to help this Morgan guy. What I say doesn't matter."
"I know the feeling," Joe muttered.
"Point taken, smart guy." I could get mad, or I could turn the beat around. "But you like me anyway, don't you?"
"I'm crazy about you." I could hear the smile in Joe's voice. "Or else I'm just crazy. I'm not certain which."
Now we were talkin'. "Crazy enough to come over tonight?"
"Only if you promise to leave the whips and chains in the closet."
"Whips and chains? Don't you just wish."
Joe laughed. "My mother always told me to be careful what you wish for, because you might get it."
"Oh, you're gonna get it." I savored the words, made them a promise. "Whether you can handle it is another matter."
His voice lowered. "I think I'm doing a pretty good job so far. You're quite a handful, Nicki Styx."
"You know what they say." I smiled into the phone, enjoying the sexy teasing. "Anything more than a handful is wasted."
Joe corrected me automatically. "'Mouthful.' Anything more than a 'mouthful' is wasted."
"Hmm… an interesting concept." I toyed with the hem of my yellow sundress. "You'll have to prove it to me, Dr. Bascombe. Perhaps further research is in order."
When I got back inside I felt a lot better. Funny how flirting with your boyfriend can put a positive spin on things. The dead couldn't hurt me, and neither could Kelly. I slid into the pew beside her without a qualm.
"Behold, I show you a mystery." The organ music had stopped, and there was a priest beside the coffin, a chubby older man with thick glasses, reading from the Bible. "We shall all indeed rise again, but we shall not all be changed. In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, the trumpet shall sound and the dead shall rise."
Not a very appealing image, if you asked me.
"Is everything okay?" Kelly leaned in, giving me a suspicious glance.
I nodded and smiled. I managed to keep smiling, even through the long prayers and dull stories about a man I'd never met. I just kept reminding myself it'd be over soon. The flower arrangements were nice, and the candles. As far as any grand expectations about learning how to "go in style," the only thing I learned is that I didn't wanna go like this. Give me a wild party and remember me fondly—don't make me wish I was dead already.