Audrey Claire - Libby Grace 01 - How to be a Ghost (11 page)

At last, the mayor ended the call, and I checked the mini chiming clock on the Massimo étagère behind her desk. Ten minutes had passed, and I still held my solid form. In fact, I was pretty sure I could go another ten at least. Feeling proud of myself, I offered a bright smile to the mayor, and she frowned back at me. I refused to be daunted by her attitude.

“Thank you so much for seeing me, mayor,” I said in as cheerful a tone as I could muster. “I wanted to talk to you about a job.”

The frown deepened, and she folded rough, wrinkled hands in front of her. I faltered for an instant in my concentration when I noticed how strong those hands were. Even without a weapon, those hands might have been able to wring poor George’s neck. The mayor blinked and squinted at me, but then she shuffled papers on her desk.

“I don’t have any openings at the moment,” she said in her brisk tone, “and I’m not hiring any volunteers for my campaign until the end of summer. Not paying ones anyway.”

While she spoke, I took in the mayor’s appearance—neat white silk blouse, plain pencil grey skirt, and she kept patting her tightly curled salt and pepper hair, which made me wonder if she had just had it styled at the local salon. Not a curl lay out of place, so there was no need to fuss. Then again, maybe the mayor was vain. I didn’t know her well; just what I had heard and the glacial gaze tossed my way here and there. Somehow I didn’t believe it was vanity that kept the mayor fiddling with her hair. Maybe she was nervous like Miles and hiding something.

Then her words penetrated my mind. “Not hiring?” My heart sank. “Oh, you thought I meant at the office here? No, I meant the hardware store. You haven’t hired a replacement yet, have you?”

Her eyebrows rose. “That store?” The word store fell from her lips as if it had been bitter in her mouth. “Why would you ever want to work in a hardware store? You have a degree in early childhood development, don’t you? Or was that a fabrication? I’m sure the elementary school pays enough to support you and your child.”

Offense made me bristle. Why would I lie about my education? I had suffered through each and every term paper and exam. Still, I hadn’t thought ahead to an excuse as to why I couldn’t work at the school. Rather than antagonize her since I had come needing a favor, I chose to excuse the insult. “Practically everyone in Summit works more than one job or moonlights to pay the bills. You’re right. The school pays me a decent salary that I don’t need an extra job per se.” Who would watch Jake anyway? I scoured my mind, but only the truth stuck out in the forefront. “Ms. Campbell asked me to take an indefinite time off since I am…well, being questioned about the murd—uh—George’s…”

In the end, I trailed off because I had no idea what would be more delicate, to say murder or death regarding George. Either I reminded her of him because she killed him, or brought back the pain of her loss. I watched the mayor closely, and I might have seen a flash of pain in her gaze, but I couldn’t be sure. The plump fingers gripped each other tighter, making me think she not unaffected. My heart went out to her.

Mayor Walsh twisted toward her computer screen. “I have the number right here in my contact list. I can call Sylvia now and demand that she reinstate you. I do not like anything to interfere with the smooth running of Summit’s Edge.”

I blinked at her. Her husband’s death had just been reduced to a faulty cog in the town’s machination. “No, please don’t. Um…” Once again, I found myself fumbling for an explanation. Inspiration struck. “I cannot continue to work as an elementary school teacher. While I loved the work and the children, I believe I have developed”—I licked my lips and instilled as much believability as possible in the absurd excuse I was about to give—“ochlophobia.”

There. That should do it.

The mayor’s blank expression told me she had no idea what the word meant, but understanding began to dawn on her face slow and steady. She repeated the last part of the word, and I supplied the definition, confident my delivery had gone over well.

“Fear of crowds or mobs,” I said. “I’m sure you understand, mayor, that while I haven’t had a formal diagnosis yet, I can’t ignore how I feel. I’m going to be searching for the right doctor. Meanwhile, I have to provide for my son. The hardware store wouldn’t take much to run, and I did minor in Accounting, so I know I can get a good handle on the books and ordering supplies, even if I can’t tell a wrench from a hammer.”

I was not that dumb, but I hoped she got the picture.

A chill wind nearly froze me where I sat, or perhaps it was my imagination when the mayor trained her gaze on my face.
Concentrate, concentrate, concentrate, Libby!
The way the mayor looked at me made it clear she was more than capable of removing anyone from the land of the living.

“Phobia?” she repeated, and I’m telling you, her voice changed on the simple word, deep and full of contempt. A tremor pierced me as she stood to her feet in degrees. “You dare come in here playing games, Ms. Grace, pretending you have a phobia? Do you know how many people in this world suffer from real phobias every day?”

“I-I-I” Stuttering did not become me, I was sure. My mouth flapped, but I didn’t understand why the mayor should become enraged. “I apologize if I have offended you, mayor. The fact is I can’t go back to the school. Not right now. Maybe not ever, and it hurts to admit, but it’s the truth.”

She stilled, and I squirmed under her scrutiny. After a few moments, she sank into her seat, and I blew out a breath. “You seem sincere. I don’t know if I’ll eventually sell the place. I hated it from the start and never understood George’s obsession. Every night he talked of nothing else.”

Just as I had figured. My thoughts took me to my wardrobe and how the hardware store “uniform” differed from school attire. That brought me to whether anyone would begin to recognize how I always wore the same clothes. Then I recalled how Ian had said I could learn to solidify just enough to hold up clothes. That must mean I could change clothes, but maybe I had to wear them over what I wore now. Not so appealing, but I would do what I had to.

Focus, Libby.

I glanced at the mayor. “So the job?”

The woman pursed her lips. A hand rose to her hair to tuck a curl into place, and then she straightened a pad of sticky notes. “I will hire you on a temporary basis until I can find a buyer—or you screw up and I have to find someone who knows what they’re doing.”

I forced a smile. “Thank you so much, mayor. I appreciate it.”

The job situation settled, I had to think about how to broach the subject of her husband’s death and ask the questions that might encourage her to open up to me. “Mayor, I was wondering if you could think of anyone who would want to hurt George.”

The mayor bristled. “I don’t see how that is any of your business.”

“If you’ll recall, I am under investigation as one of the suspects.”

“Which I find is preposterous,” she snapped.

I resisted launching into a diatribe about how I had as much potential to murder as the next person but realized the craziness of this argument just in time. “Right, but your chief of police has been questioning me.”

The older woman’s nostrils flared. The jibe on her choosing Clark hit home. I believed in Clark’s ability to sniff out the real killer, but the mayor had insulted me several times since I arrived. My tiny dig at her gave me a molecule of satisfaction.

“As no more than a possible witness,” she assured me. “No one believes you are to blame. If I did think so, I would not have hired you.”

“Thank you, mayor.”

“As for George, I will not discuss him with you.”

There it was again, that sense that the mayor was hurt over the loss of her husband. Regret and hurt did not mean she hadn’t done something wrong, but it made her human. When I gazed into her eyes, hers slipped away, and I had to wonder if they did because she wasn’t sure if I knew about her husband and Miles or for another reason. I glanced around her office. Nothing out of place, no files smattering the floor as in Clark’s office. I couldn’t happen upon any new information just sitting there. Maybe I could search the office tonight after everyone left. No one could be around if I were to do it because I needed to be solid enough to pull open drawers. The desktop remained clear, almost as if it were never used.

I thought of how I had made the lights spark and blow out both at the hardware store and at Ian’s and wondered if I could do it now. Then again, at the previous times, I was not concentrating on staying fully visible. If I overloaded my concentration, the mayor might find out my secret, and even if she didn’t know how to banish me, I could be sure, she had the resources to find someone who did.

“Mayor, I’d love to start the job as soon as possible,” I said. “Is there paperwork I need to fill out and keys? Also, can we talk salary?”

She stood and strode over to a file cabinet across from her desk. The position turned out to be perfect for me fading out while I tried to dim the lights.

“You’re in luck,” Mayor Walsh said with her back to me. “Chief Givens just released the store this afternoon, and he said I can reopen it. I was going to hire someone to clean it, but you can do that.”

I lost concentration when I realized what she meant. “C-Clean it?” I croaked. “You mean the s-spot?”

The drawer slammed, and just as she turned around I winked solid. Knuckles went to her rounded hip. “Is there a problem? You asked that I hire you, Libby. I did you a favor. If you can’t handle a little blood, I can find someone else for the job.”

A little blood she says. But I saw her own blood drain from her face. The mayor held a stiff upper lip, and her attention never wavered from me. “No problem. I can do it.”

Mentally, I went through a Rolodex of the citizens I knew in Summit’s Edge. There had to be someone willing to clean the storeroom. I wasn’t willing to give up the job, but I could not go back there and see that again. Since I would have access to the store’s books, I had every intention of finding the funds to pay for it. George didn’t strike me as the kind of man who was as orderly as Olivia Walsh—not if the arrangements of his inventory were any indication.

Thinking there was nothing more I could do here, I leaned forward to stand. At the same time, I reached my full height, I lost all ability to go solid. Just like that, as if someone had snapped their fingers and the gift vanished. I looked down, and the barest hint of myself was visible. I waited for the mayor to scream or faint or call an exorcist.

“This application I used for Sharon will have to do,” the mayor said in a conversational tone. I whipped around and found her bent over her desk, scratching at a few printed lines on the sheet before her. “The salary is standard.”

She named a figure and straightened. In an instant, I faded and zipped through the door to the hall, then called back through the opening. “Mayor, I have a bathroom emergency. I’ll be right back.”

I heard her say something rude and I float-paced the hall, chewing a thumbnail. Just around the bend was the secretary’s desk, Sharon Roache. I’d need to pass by it to reach the outer hallway where the bathroom was. Sharon must have even heard me call out and waited for me to appear. Knowing no one could see me, I rounded the corner to find her devouring a romance novel, her back to me. The furrow in her brow and the way her lips moved told me Sharon had no idea what went on in the world outside of her book. The fact that she had spun away from the door and had left a file cabinet open told me, the mayor would get onto her if she were caught. I did not want to get her into trouble, but I needed to get the mayor to leave. I wanted to check her office now rather than later. I would need to spend time charging up in order to spend as much time with Jake that evening as possible.

I zoomed back to the mayor’s door and closed my eyes, concentrating. No zings or pops met my ears. Rolling my head on my neck and shaking my hands as I had seen boxers do on TV the few times Monica and Jake had forced me to watch them, I visualized what I wanted to happen. The lights over the mayor’s desk were the best bet rather than the bronze finished banker’s lamp on her desk.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t direct my energy into the room. I considered I might need to be in there, or it the problem might be that I was out of juice. Another thought occurred to me—emotions. Specifically, whackadoodle emotions. Thinking of losing Jake did it. In fact, thinking of not seeing my son almost lit the mayor’s office on fire.

Sparks flew so bright I saw the glow beneath the closed door. Bulbs popped, and the mayor screamed for Sharon. I zipped through the wall into the office, hoping I hadn’t just committed another murder, but the mayor was storming through the mess coming toward me and still shouting.

“Sharon, call the electrician! I want his head on platter,” she screeched. She wrenched the door open, and it banged the wall as she kept charging on. I had no doubt with all the noise she made her secretary had plenty warning to put the book away.

While Olivia Walsh railed on and on about the mess of her office and how she would never use the company that had come out to repair her wiring again, I hurried to her desk and gave it a once over. As before, nothing stood out to me. The few sheets of paper in top were the application for employment, now covered in glass from the lights above and the table lamp. Guilt stirred in my heart for the destruction, but I didn’t let it slow me down.

I glanced at the door, which had banged off the wall and now stood half closed. My time was limited. “You’re going to go in there and sweep,” the mayor was telling Sharon. “But first get me that number.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tammy moaned. I heard resentment in her tone and knew there was another individual who did not like the mayor.

I tried to make my body solid and failed. My hand kept going through the desk instead of grasping the handle.
Come on, Libby. This can’t be all for nothing.

I just stood there staring at the handle. Maybe I would develop laser eyes. I almost laughed at the thought. Wait, hadn’t Ian said I might learn to solidify one part of my body? I went that route and focused on my right hand. A pinky, the rest of my fingers, my palm, wrist, slowly they became visible, and I almost
whooped
with excitement.