The First Ghost. Marguerite Butler
demons?”
“Demons are a real risk for ghosts. They aren’t picky. They’ll eat anyone they can catch. Mahaffey-Ringold is on sacred ground. Demons can’t come here, so it’s a popular place for some of the older spirits to hang out.”
“I know about Boris and that snooty old lady, whatshername. Lady Hildegard? How many of them live here?”
Mother studied me curiously. “How did you know about demons, anyway? Have you actually seen one?”
“Ugly and smelly.”
She set down her cup. “Honey, I’m impressed. I’ve been hoping to see one for years. Only a few days and your gift is so strong.”
“I’m being haunted,” I blurted out.
“Already?”
“Remember the girl who died in my hospital room? She was murdered, and now she won’t cross over. I promised to look after her dog.” I gestured to Billy, who had stretched out under the table, all four legs spread-eagled, snoring softly.
“Ah,” Mother said. “That explains the dog.”
“I’ve promised to call her family, but...”
“It’s difficult,” Mother said. “Some are reluctant, but persuading them to cross over is a skill that comes with time. I’m sure you can reason with her. Good Lord! What is that smell?”
I glanced under the table at Billy. “He’s been a little gassy today.”
“What are you feeding him?”
“Money. He eats money.”
“You should try something for sensitive tummies.”
“I didn’t realize you were a dog expert. Maybe you should–”
“Don’t even think about it. This was your charitable impulse. Speaking of, I suppose you need a temporary job.”
“You haven’t gone precognitive on me, have you, Mother?”
“Don’t I wish.” She took a sip of her coffee. “You’re here in the middle of the day.”
“I could have the day off.”
She smiled at me over her cup. “Cruella let you off? I doubt that. We could find you a permanent position here.”
“I’ll find a new job soon. I’m not cut out for the funeral business.”
“If you insist,” Mother said. “But I think your new skills would be handy. Be here tomorrow by noon to clean the chapel. We have an afternoon viewing. Don’t worry. She’s already crossed over. Just make sure things run smoothly.” The chorus to Ain’t We Got Fun drifted down the hall. “And keep Boris off the organ.”
“Anyway, about the girl haunting me. Her murder is unsolved.”
Mother put down her coffee. “No. Absolutely not. Do not get involved in that sort of thing. It’s a dreadful idea. You’ll end up like Eleanor.” She said my cousin’s name with great distaste.
“I know you don’t approve, but is what Ellie does so bad?”
“Bad things can happen. Do you want to be labeled as a witch or treated like some fruitcake? Do you want to be another Elizabeth? Do you?”
“It doesn’t seem to have hurt Ellie.”
Her face darkened. “Ellie isn’t even very good at what she does. So she can read things from objects. Big deal.”
“But she works with the police. She’s helped solve murders and kidnappings.”
“She’s provided tiny bits of info on cases they probably would have solved anyway. Really! The dog-and-pony show she puts on.”
When I was younger, I didn’t get Mother's obsession with secrecy. I realized that the women in my family were different. On my tenth birthday, I learned just how different. Mother said we were special, but I knew it wasn’t all roses and accolades. Mahaffey women had been hunted as witches, burned as heretics and locked up as insane. Even with the current acceptance, fad even, of all things ghostly, she fears the repercussions of public exposure.
My cousin Eleanor has broken this taboo in a very public way. She has her own TV show, PI: Psychic Investigators.
“The way Ellie carries on you’d think she could cure cancer. That stuff on TV is nothing but trouble. She gets people so stirred up.” Mother was gearing up into a full-blown Anti-Eleanor rant. I couldn’t very well tell her I meant to go ask Eleanor for help with Corinne’s murder. Mother didn’t understand my predicament.
How could she understand when her experience with the dead was little old ladies picking out pewter urns and mauve coffin linings? She didn’t see demons or residuals. God only knows what other horrors were waiting for me out there. But I did need one thing from her.
“Mother, can I borrow the hearse?”
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