The First Ghost. Marguerite Butler
sudden squeal of tires and smell of smoke caused my eyes to fly open and I squeaked at the sight of how close we had come to actually loading ourselves into the open back of a broken-down eighteen-wheeler. Harry swore and jerked the wheel hard to the right without checking his mirrors. I gripped the door handle and closed my eyes again.
“In case you haven’t noticed,” Harry said, continuing as if he hadn’t almost killed us both, “I bear a passing resemblance to Howdy Doody.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, we’re almost identical.”
“It’s totally different for you. Red hair and freckles are cute on a woman. On guys, not so much. And women aren’t tall and skinny. They’re willowy. Guys think it’s hot.” I rolled my eyes. Harry was always dating some idiotic lingerie model or something and then lamenting how shallow she was.
“Six feet isn’t willowy, bonehead. It’s freakishly tall. What do you think that does to my dating options?”
“You could date shorter men.”
“You could date ugly women.”
That cracked us both up, and after he screeched across three lanes of traffic and shot down the off-ramp at double the legal speed, he turned left to Italiano Soda Fountain instead of right toward my apartment. Good thing, because I had a serious craving.
It was way too cold for the chocolate malted shakes, but Harry cranked up the car’s heater. We were giggly and silly from the sugar rush when he dropped me off at my apartment.
Hephzibah hadn’t made an appearance, but Corinne sulked in the backseat for a while and then vanished. I’m not sure exactly when. Since I spent a lot of the time with my eyes shut, I didn’t see her go.
As I turned the key into my apartment and opened the door, poof, there Corinne was, looking royally pissed. So much for no ghosts outside of the hospital. Ignoring her, I threw my plastic bag of clothes down on my chair and carefully set down my It’s a Girl bouquet.
I adore my little apartment. It’s just an efficiency, but the design is modern and open. The living area blends right into the kitchen. Only the bathroom and bedroom are self-contained.
The lush, beige carpet is lovely because I like being barefoot. I have an elegant leather sofa and a fireplace with a stone hearth. Not that I’ve ever lit a fire in it, but I could if I wanted to.
Best of all, in the morning the sun comes in the kitchen window and the room glows with the warm light. Have I mentioned that I adore the place?
And there Corinne was, sitting on my lovely leather couch, glaring at me when I’d done nothing to the girl. It wasn’t my fault she died. I had a bad day, too. Okay, hers was worse, but still. This was exactly why I wanted nothing to do with ghosts.
“I am so not in the mood right now,” I said.
“Really? You were yucking it up a minute ago with your friend.”
“Brother.”
“Whatever. You haven’t done anything that you promised.”
“I just got out of the freaking hospital. Give me a break, okay?”
“At least go get Billy.”
“I said I would help you. Don’t push it. I will call your aunt in...”
“Omaha. Aunt Susie.”
“Right. I’ll call her. And I’ll check on your dog, but it’s going to have to wait. I need a shower.” I touched the bandage on my head. Blood crusted my hairline.
“But she’s going to be worried.”
I sighed and sat on the couch. Corinne was wearing me down. Was it really only yesterday she had died? This psychic stuff was exactly as I had feared. You can’t get away from a ghost. I counted to ten. Get rid of the ghost and get my life back. I could do this.
“I’m sure they’ve told her already,” I said. “That’s what hospitals do. She knows.” I put my hand up to stop her protest. “I said I would call her and I will. But you have to give me a little time. This is all new to me.”
“What about Billy? You don’t know my roommate. Ruth hates dogs.”
“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