The First Ghost Page 15

  “Found her,” she said. Compared to Lurlene, Starla looked fresh and dewy eyed.

  “Talk to you over here?” Fierro gestured over to a table at the far corner.

  Lurlene shrugged and followed us.

  “I’m looking into the disappearance of Starla Mueller,” he said.

  Interest flickered in her dull eyes. “’Bout time someone gave a damn. Me and Dean reported her missing. That bastard she married don’t give two shits.”

  “I hear you. Thing is, we don’t have much to go on. I’m looking for anything you can tell me about Starla and her husband.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like, how would you describe their marriage? Would you say it was in trouble?”

  She snorted. “Trouble? Did the Titanic run into a little trouble with some ice? That marriage was beyond trouble. Starla was pretty sure Joby was running around on her. She said she was gonna follow him and find out. That’s what she said the last time I talked to her. She never showed for her shift. Me and Dean got worried. We started calling, but ain’t nobody seen Starla. That bastard husband of hers cussed us and claimed she run away with Dean’s cousin, but Dean and me knew better. Starla ain’t the type to run.”

  “Why not?”

  “She just ain’t. Starla never run from nothing in her whole life.”

  Fierro nodded. “I hear you. Here’s my card.” He pulled a little gold case from his pocket and handed one to her.

  Lurlene’s eyes grew canny. “This here card says Homicide. You think she’s dead?”

  Fierro hesitated and then nodded. “It’s a strong possibility.”

  Lurlene stared at the card. “Shit,” she said, blinking back tears. “That’s what I think too.”

  When we got back in the car, I said, “So where does that leave us? Lurlene didn’t do anything but confirm what Starla already told us.”

  “It leaves you keeping your date with your mother. It’s bad enough skipping church, but you better not miss lunch. And it’s nice to confirm what Starla told us about going to confront Joby, especially from a living witness who can actually testify in court. But that’s enough freebie work on behalf of the dead for one day.”

  I decided Fierro had a point, so I swung by my apartment and grabbed Billy, who spent the ride racing back and forth between the dash and the passenger window. He never settled down into his seat. Halfway there, I remembered to drive with the window cracked. When he finished this bag of dog food, I was buying something cheaper. Hopefully it would make Billy less gassy.

  I didn’t bother putting Billy on the leash at Mother’s. He had gotten used to staying on my heels. “Be good,” I said. “Don’t pee on anything.”

  He snorked along the front door with too much interest.

  “I mean it,” I said.

  “Ooh, it’s a little doggy. Looks like a tasty snack.” Old Man Biddle hovered over me, grinning.

  “You’re still here?”

  “’Course he’s here. He won’t cross over,” Hephzibah said. “Be careful, doll. Don’t let him pollute you.”

  Mother whipped the door open. “Stay out! You’re not wanted here!”

  I recoiled in shock.

  “Not you,” she whispered. “Him.”

  “Hee hee.” Biddle zoomed down the street, cackling.

  I followed her inside, shucking my coat and draping it over an armchair. “Why won’t Biddle cross over?”

  “Because he doesn’t want to.” She picked up my coat and opened the closet door. “He knows where he’s going.”

  “You mean hell?”

  “Amen, sister,” Hephzibah said. “He’s just hanging around trying to cause as much havoc as he can before the Reclaimers get him. Personally I’m rooting for a demon. If anyone deserves to get eaten, it’s that old bastard.”

  Mother shuddered. “Enough about Old Man Biddle. Where were you this morning?”

  “It was the weather. I wasn’t sure if the streets were good.”

  “You’re such a bad liar.” She patted my cheek. “It does a mother’s heart good.”

  “What did Old Man Biddle do that was so awful?”

  “Never you mind. It’s being handled. Once the place goes through probate,” Mother said, giving Hephzibah a worried glance.

  “Don’t look at me. I don’t meddle in matters of the living,” Hephzibah said. “I’ve got business of the dead to tend to.” She walked through the front wall.

  “I figured now that you saw concrete evidence of the spiritual world you would come back to church with me.”

  “I meant to,” I said. “I had things to do. And the weather really was bad last night.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Were you meeting someone perhaps? How is your doctor?”

  “He’s not my doctor, but he’s fine. His name is Ethan. If things stay good, I’ll let you meet him.”

  “You say that like you’re ashamed of us.” Walter entered the room, stamping mud from his feet. Harry’s arms were laden with firewood.

  “Oh honey, that’s too wet to burn,” Mother said.

  “It’s not bad. Just a little damp,” Harry protested.

  Mother made a face. “That makes it so smoky, and it takes forever to catch. Portia’s not ashamed of us. She’s cautious. Doesn’t want to jinx a new relationship. Right, dear?”

  “That’s it,” I said.

  “I mean,” Mother continued, “there isn’t anything wrong with him, is there? Something we should know?”

  I rolled my eyes. “No, Mother. He’s very nice. Nothing for you to worry about.”

  The meal was a disaster and not because of the rubbery lemon chicken or a broccoli rice casserole with the consistency and flavor of paste. It was the poltergeist-style antics of Biddle, who’d found his way back into the house. Walter prayed over the meal and I joined in. I don’t know if it helps, but I figured that little things like saying grace couldn’t hurt and if they helped, well, so much the better.

  Grace was interrupted by the bread pudding flying off the table and onto the floor. Mother looked up and saw Biddle cackling and hovering over her table. Her jaw tightened. Harry and I leapt up to clean the mess.

  “It’s no great loss,” Harry whispered. “There’s a pie from Perulli’s in the fridge.”

  “Leave it somewhere safe,” I said.

  He gave me a funny look. “You know, a lot of strange things have been happening around the neighborhood lately.”

  We went into the living room to see Mother red-faced and Walter holding a squirming Billy, who had been doing his best to clean up the pudding by himself.

  “I didn’t think he needed to eat glass,” Walter explained.

  “Little piggy,” I said. Billy wiggled with delight, then his eyes bugged over my shoulder.

  “Ar-ar-ar-ar.”

  “Your dog is weird,” Harry said, but he had a thoughtful expression as he stared at the place Billy was looking. “You know, all this started when Old Man Biddle died.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Mother said, but she got up and lit her incense candles that she gets from Father Mike. She has a little shrine to the cross in the living room. I think the candles smell foul. Fortunately, Biddle seemed to agree. He hacked and wheezed and recoiled from the smoke before disappearing.

  * * * *

  I had a good excuse for leaving early. I needed to pick up Aunt Susie at the airport. Billy was pitiful when I left him in the car with the windows cracked.

  I recognized Susie Simpson, although I had never laid eyes on her before. She was Corinne, three decades older. Same round face, long blond hair and wide blue eyes. This was how Corinne would look if she had matured, raised her niece, then buried her.

  Susie greeted me like an old friend with an enormous hug. “I'm not usually a hugger,” she said. “But I feel like I know you.”

  I helped her gather her luggage. Susie recoiled at the hearse. “Oh my.” Her carry-on fell to the ground.

  “I should have warned you. My family ow
ns a funeral home. I had to borrow a car. Don’t worry. I won’t put your stuff in the back.”

  Bug eyes and frantic scrabbling paws on the window told me that Billy had spotted us.

  “Billy,” she exclaimed, rushing to the hearse. “He looks so good.” She cuddled the wheezing pug trying to lick her face.

  I eased us back into traffic and turned toward downtown. “It’s a longish ride. Do you want to stop for a bite or a Coke? I can pick you something up.”

  “Thanks, but I’m fine. I’m anxious to get to the apartment.”

  “You want to go now? I thought maybe tomorrow after work...”

  “Oh.” She sounded disappointed. “That would be okay.”

  “Are you sure? You don’t mind?” I turned to look at her.

  “That would be fine. I was planning on staying a couple of days. I’ll get a hotel room.”

  “You could stay with me. I don’t mind.”

  “That’s so sweet, but I wanted...well...” She seemed embarrassed. “I don’t get down to Dallas very often.”

  Something clicked. “You want to go shopping.”

  “That seems awfully shallow, doesn’t it? Poor Cori.” She sniffled. Fortunately I was armed with tissues. I had expected this.

  “Of course not. You have to go on living,” I said. “Corinne will understand.”

  Susie looked at me oddly. That hadn’t come out right. “I guess she would. I’ll just get a hotel room and take a taxi. It’s no problem.”

  “At least let me make dinner for you tomorrow,” I said.

  “That would be nice.”

  “Good. Tomorrow I’ll pick you up and we will go get Corinne’s things and then we can have a nice meal.”

  “I’d like that. I’m glad Cori had a friend like you. I didn’t think she had any gal pals here. She didn’t get along with other women her age.”

  “I’m not so good at that either.”

  I helped Susie check into the XYZ Inn and took Billy home. He whined when I took him from Susie’s arms. “Sorry, bud,” I said and wondered if I should offer to give him to Susie. Maybe they belonged together.

  I had plans for the night. Ethan wanted to make dinner for me at his place, and considering how well the last date had gone, I wanted to shave my legs first. Corinne flitted around my bedroom. She had been jumpy since the demon attack.

  “Your Aunt Susie is at a hotel,” I announced.

  “I thought she would stay here.”

  I flopped onto the couch. “I offered, but she wanted to stay at a hotel. It’s understandable. I’m a stranger. She’s coming here tomorrow.”

  Corinne clapped her hands and brightened. “I’m so excited.”

  “Then it will be time to cross over.”

  Her chin trembled. “But...but...”

  “I’m working with the detective. He’s all over your case now. We’ve got some leads. One last goodbye with your aunt and then it’s time.” Before it’s too late, I thought. She turned away, her shoulders shaking. “It will be okay,” I said softly. “You were a good person. I can tell.”

  “I’m scared anyway. Do you believe in heaven? There’s a church over on Sela Street. I liked going there.”

  “Then that’s okay, isn’t it?”

  “It was supposed to be. Why am I still so scared?”

  I didn’t have any good answers, but I was in a somber mood when I left for Ethan’s place.

  I left the hearse parked. The thing guzzled gas and the train was too convenient.

  I stayed alert for demons, but only foul smell wafted up from the sewers. When I got off at Bellingrad, the neighborhood smelled noticeably better. Rows of classy townhomes lined the streets with cute little yards for kids and pets.

  Stop that. Don’t think that way. Third date. Think third date.

  Of course, I had gone all the way on my second date, which was unusual for me, but when Ethan answered the door I remembered why.

  He didn’t say anything, just leaned in and kissed me long and slow as the blood deserted my brain, rushing downward. My awkwardness melted away.

  “Hey there.”

  “Hey there yourself,” he said, drawing me inside.

  Ethan’s two-story townhome was unspeakably cute. It was so warm and homey that I suspected a woman’s touch. Then again, he could have hired a decorator. Maybe that’s what doctors did. Something smelled wonderful. I said this out loud.

  “Cooking is a hobby of mine.”

  Score. “Smells like my lucky day.”

  “Pinot Grigio?” He held up the wine bottle.

  I accepted a glass and a tour of the town house. It was a two bedroom completely done in harvest colors, like an advertisement for the Pottery Barn. “It’s beautiful,” I said.

  I followed Ethan into the kitchen. “Do you mind eating in here?” he asked. “It’s less formal, but it’s my favorite room in the house.” I could see why. Buttery yellow plaster walls, Italian tile. I’d live in that kitchen too.

  I perched on a padded barstool near the granite island. “Can I help?”

  “I’ve got it covered. How was the rest of your week?”

  I sipped the wine. “More of the same. I managed to keep the scientists from taking apart the electronics. There’s a lot of transcription involved. I had no idea. It’s a little like learning to read hieroglyphics. Some of those scientists are as bad as doctors when it comes to writing.”

  “I hear that complaint all the time. The nurses claim mine looks like a five-year-old wrote the chart notes.”

  “So tell me about your week.”

  “More of the same. Lots of car wrecks with this weather. Lots of homeless people with cold-related injuries. Flu. Pneumonia.” He shredded field greens into a tangerine ceramic bowl.

  “That’s sad. Why don’t they go to a shelter? Surely there’s enough room.”

  He added whole pear tomatoes and sliced cucumber to the salad before answering. “There probably are enough beds.”

  “Then why don’t they go to them?”

  “There are reasons a lot of them are homeless aside from the obvious economic ones.”

  “Like they’re addicts?”

  “And mental problems or alcoholism. Some are too proud to go for help. Others have been banned from the shelters because of violent behavior.”

  I touched his arm. “Sounds like a sad week.”

  “Just a typical one. At least I do something to help.” He caught my hand and kissed it. “It’s all better now.”

  “Do you go to church?”

  “Sure. St. Matthew Cumberland Presbyterian. It’s right around the corner from the hospital. The head administrators go there. It’s a smart move.”

  “So more of a career decision than a religious one?”

  He shrugged. “Only partly. How about you?”

  I drained the last of my wine. “Lapsed Catholic.”

  “Hand me those?” He gestured toward the beige oven mitts. A quick check in the oven assured him that dinner was ready. The chicken was flavorful, and the veggies barely blanched. The salad was healthy and organic, but it all left me wanting something more. We adjourned to the cozy den. I would have to find my own dessert.

  Ethan dimmed the lighting, adjusted the music volume and sank down next to me on the couch.

  He pulled me close. “Portia?”

  “Hmm?” I leaned back against his chest, entranced by the crackling fire.

  “You asked me once why I was single and unattached. What about you?”

  “No mystery. I date inappropriate men.” This made us both laugh. “Or I did in the past. You, on the other hand, would make my mother squeal with delight.”

  His hands kneaded my shoulders and neck. “I hope to meet her soon. I’d like to meet your parents. Oh, there’s a knot.”

  Forcing away the little bits of panic, I reminded myself I was the new and braver Portia Mahaffey. I could handle ghosts, face down demons, and date a nice guy without running away. “This girlfriend you had. How
long ago did you break up?”

  His hands paused and then continued. “Last year.” I relaxed a bit. That was long enough. “Confession,” he said. I tensed again. This was where he admitted he was a closet transsexual or that he had been married three times, or-- “We lived together.” That wasn’t so bad. “For three years.” Oh crap. That was almost like marriage.

  “That’s a long time,” I said.

  “I know. But sometimes things don’t work out. Or sometimes they work out for the better,” he whispered against my ear. He nibbled the lobe and trailed kisses down the side of my neck. I tilted my head, exposing my entire throat.

  Ethan slid lazily around to the front, in no great hurry. I needed him, though, and pulled him up to my mouth for a long, deep kiss. Running my hands up the inside of his shirt caused him to groan. Just a third date. I’d feel slutty if he wasn’t Mister Perfect, if he wasn’t right for me in every way.

  He rose up and crossed his arms, stripping off his shirt. I trailed an admiring hand down his hard abdomen. He leaned over me, propping himself up on his arms, teasing me with little butterfly kisses until I couldn’t think anymore.

  * * * *

  The rotten thing about having a dog at home is it made spending a night away almost impossible. Much as I loathed the idea of dragging myself out of the warm bed and away from Ethan’s arms, the thought of cleaning dog pee out of the carpet was enough to leverage me upright. He spread sleepy kisses down my back and I rationalized that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have my carpet steamed.

  “I need to get up and shower,” he groaned. “I have an early shift.”

  I pushed away from the bed. “If you don’t stop fondling me like that, we’ll both get fired.”

  He laid back and grinned at me. “It might be worth it.”

  “Says the doctor who can get another job and make wads of cash.” I pulled on my clothes.

  He was singing opera with his beautiful baritone in the shower when I trudged out into the cold. Was there anything the man didn’t do well?

  Chapter 14

  I found it hard to concentrate at work. I was thinking about perfect men and sneaky roommates and crossing over into the unknown. On a break, I opened the fridge to find the burritos all gone. “Damn it. Damn, damn, damn.”