Givin' Up The Ghost (An Indigo Eady Paranormal Mystery) (16 page)

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“Y
ou know I’m not one to gossip,” said Franny with her chin
in the air. “But I don’t want to see any harm come to you.”

“I know,” I said. “I appreciate your concern. I do. Please
tell me.”

 “Well, when those pellucid poltergeists upstairs...” She
pointed up and rolled her eyes (trust me, not a pretty sight,) “...started
talking about you having an accident and coming home all scraped up, I listened
in. You know how I like to look after my girls.”

She considered me one of her girls. Strangely flattered, if
I wasn’t so depressed, I might have laughed.

The ghostly gossip network was clearly more extensive than I
had originally thought.

The chilly, mauve-painted hall became quite icy, with puffs
of fog now issuing from my nose and mouth. Even the family photographs hanging
on the walls were beginning to develop frost and grow icicles. My great
grandfather’s portrait as a clean-shaven dandy now grew a white mustache and
beard. If my relatives in the photos and portraits lining the hall started
shivering, I was so out of there.

I wished Franny would spit out what she wanted to say, but I
patiently waited for her to continue. 

“It’s nice the boys chased that man away – I told you not to
wear that skirt, dear – but I think they got the wrong man.”

“What do you mean?” I was confused.

“I mean Bart Bagley had an argument with Butch the butcher
before he got killed.”

“We know that, Franny, but an argument over an order is not
a good reason for killing someone.” I had hoped Franny had something useful to
tell me, but the information was redundant. “As a motive, it doesn’t make
sense.” Deflated, I thanked her and started to turn away. What did it matter
anyway? The investigation was over.

“Yes, but did you know he also had an argument with that
colleague of his? What was his name? Arnie. Yes, Arnie Ball, that’s it.” Her
voice hung on a triumphant note.

I stopped in my tracks, the tiny hairs rising on the back of
my neck. My heart skipped rope at least ten times.

“Do you mean Andy? Andy Hall?”

“Yes, dear. That’s what I said. Andy Hall.” The look on her
face was quite smug. She raised her chin and consciously flipped a long strand
of hair back over her shoulder.

“What did they argue about, do you know?” I wanted to grab
her arm, keep her there, but I stopped myself. I had walked through ghosts many
times, and the experience was unpleasant for both parties. Recovering from the
creepy, chilly feeling took a while.

“I don’t know, but apparently on the Tuesday – no
Wednesday,” she corrected, “before he disappeared, he had lunch at a
restaurant...” She tapped her chin. She drifted up and down the hall, shushing
me and holding up her hand when I would have interrupted her concentration. “I
know!” She snapped her fingers in sudden recollection. “Jack’s.”

“Jack’s?” I echoed. It
sort of
sounded familiar.

“Who’s Jack?’ said a voice, followed by Simon’s ruffled
blond head peeking around the kitchen door. He clutched a blanket around his
shoulders, a Led Zeppelin t-shirt and sweatpants underneath, but his feet were
bare. “And what are you doing standing out here? Who are you talking to?”

He looked down the empty hall.

Franny tucked her robe about her more tightly and touched
her hair to ensure she was presentable. 

“It’s a restaurant. Do you know it?” I asked Simon.

He started to shake his head, but then said, “Oh! Do you
mean Jake’s?”

I looked down the hall to Franny for confirmation. Simon
followed my eyes, still seeing nothing.

“Yes, that’s what I said dear,” said Franny. “
Jake’s
.”

“Thank you,” I answered. I wondered if Franny had begun to
go senile or had Alzheimer’s before she passed on. She definitely had a problem
with names.

“You’re welcome, dear,” she replied, and disappeared
immediately, still clutching her robe closed.

Simon shrugged and went with it. “No problem.” He followed
me back into the kitchen. “What
about
Jakes?” He went over to stoke the
fire while I put a pot of coffee on. I pulled clean mugs out of the cupboard
and sniffed appreciatively as the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the
air.

“That’s where Bart had lunch with Andy Hall on the Wednesday
before his disappearance,” I said. I pulled bagels out of the pantry, popped
them in the toaster and went to the refrigerator for cream cheese.

“Yeah. That was on his calendar. We already knew that.”

“What we didn’t know,” I added, bringing coffee and bagels
to the table, “is that they had an argument at lunch that day.” I let the
significance sink in as I spread cream cheese on my bagel.

The skin was sore and tight under my eye as I bit into the
bagel and winced. I wondered if I looked as bad as I felt and decided that yes,
yes I did.

“Bloody hell,” said Simon, shaking his head. “We were aware
they had lunch that day. Even asked Andy if Bart had confided anything to him,
or if anything was bothering him.”

I nodded, taking a huge bite of bagel. I never did get to
eat dinner last night.

“He bloody well never said they had an argument!” He sipped
his coffee and took bit into his bagel before looking up at me. “I know a
waitress at Jake’s.”

Of course.
“But the investigation is over,” I said.
“Badger made that pretty clear.”

“Yeah, he was a right prat last night.”

We ate in silence. I didn’t feel like defending Badger
again. I could do without his stubbornness and anger. His honesty kind of
sucked, too. I was so over him. Right?

“I’ll go talk to her and see if she remembers anything. Or
maybe one of the other waitresses might remember something. No harm in that,
right?”

I gave a
whatever
shrug.

Anyway, Badger wasn’t the boss of us.

We finished breakfast and moved to the chairs by the fire
after refilling our coffee mugs. I winced as I lowered myself into the chair.

“How’re you feeling,” Simon asked, still chewing. “You look
like hell.”

“Thanks a lot.” I know my tone dripped with sarcasm, but 
having been told the same thing twice already that day rankled. 

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way.” Cleo jumped into his lap as
soon as he sat down, circling a couple of times before curling up and licking
her extended claws.

“I’m sore,” I admitted, touching my face. “I’m glad your dad
left early for that conference in London. My face could use some healing time.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t looking forward to explaining why your face
looks like I beat you up.”

We grinned. What Uncle Richard didn’t know wouldn’t hurt us.

“So,” he began. “Don’t get mad, but...these
accidents
you keep having...”

“I am
not
accident-prone,” I said, annoyed. “It’s
just... as soon as I came to this country, things started happening.” I
shrugged. “I feel sort of off-kilter, like I have a foot in both worlds and
belong in neither. I think England has more ghosts than America.”

Simon gave me a skeptical look, and I threw a pillow at him.
It hit Cleo, who jumped down hissing, before strutting away and disappearing
through the kitchen door.

Since Uncle Richard was away until the following Monday,
December 19th, Simon and I were in charge of buying the Christmas tree. Yeah,
the one we were supposed to get last weekend. We had to get it, decorate it,
and put something under it before Uncle Richard got home. We decided to go to
the Blind Badger for dinner first. The possibility of seeing Badger made my
stomach and heart trade places, like circus performers swinging back and forth
on the flying trapeze. But we were hoping Riley’s source would have gotten back
to her. We were all on pins and needles waiting to see if any of us were
implicated in Billy’s murder.

When we walked in, Bart sat in his usual place at the bar,
still uncommunicative. Once he had turned the murder problem over to me, he sat
back and waited for me to fix it. He might sit there for eternity, reading his
newspaper, waiting and waiting, not ever knowing I gave up on him or let him
down. A pang of guilt stabbed my heart so sharply that tears stung my eyes.

The Wednesday evening crowd was sparse. A few people sat at
the bar, and several couple’s occupied tables. Light music played in the
background. A wide array of ghostly beings, representing every century for at
least the past six hundred years, drifted in and out, some working, some being
served.

“Good evening, m’lady.” A well-dressed spirit wearing a dark
blue coat, with a short, square-cut crimson waistcoat and yellow, skin-tight
breeches stopped at our table. He nodded and tipped his three-pointed hat to me
before moving politely on, silver-tipped cane in hand. I nodded briefly, trying
to avoid a conversation that would put me in an awkward position.

Bart and Agatha were both there, along with a certain
brown-haired spirit that hid every time I caught a glimpse of her.

Two fireplaces cast dancing figures across the room,
swirling and swaying like lovers around the dance floor. Mismatched and
half-spent candles flickered on table centers, giving the room a warm, homey
feeling. Romantic, even, for people other than me.

Spying Badger working behind the bar, I looked quickly away.
Riley emerged from the kitchen carrying steaming plates of heavenly-smelling
food.

Stomachs growling, Simon and I took a table near the
fireplace. I could not seem to get warm since last night. When Riley had a free
minute, she took our order of Sheppard’s Pie with coffee for me, and the same
for Simon with ginger ale.

Riley studied my face, noting the bruises and puffy eyes.
“How’re you feeling?”

“Sore, but fine.” I shrugged it off. We didn’t need to
discuss last night right now. Or ever, as far as I was concerned. I had refused
Franny’s help to cover the damage, but took extra time with my appearance. The
weight of my thick, wavy hair contained in the usual braid made my sore head
ache, so I left it to flow down my back. I dabbed makeup on the bruising, and
even applied mascara and blush. A long white cowl-necked sweater over white leggings
and black boots were comfortable and looked good, too. I needed all the
confidence I could get after the blow to my already fragile ego. 

Riley glanced over her shoulder to ensure no one was
listening, and then whispered, “No word yet, but I haven’t had a chance to
check my phone in a couple of hours. It’s just now finally slowed down.” She
looked at the clock above the bar. Eight o’clock. “I’m off at nine, so’s
Badger. Meet us in the snug.”

I nodded, hesitant to face Badger again so soon. But it couldn’t
be helped. The investigation was over, but we still had to know if we were
murder suspects. My stomach sank at the thought. Seriously claustrophobic, I’d
never do well in prison.

We finished our meal before nine o’clock and headed back to
the snug with me leading the way. As we entered the hall, I caught a glimpse of
a shadow disappearing to the left.

A woman, with long dark hair.

––––––––

A
ll evening I had the feeling I was being watched. The
slightly chilly,
hair-rising-on-the-back-of-your-neck
kind of feeling.
The spectral kind. I was pretty sure who my new spectral stalker was, too. For
several days now, I’d been catching glimpses. One who wanted to know what was
happening, but didn’t want to ask. A shy spirit.

“I’ll be right back,” I said, and headed down the hall while
Simon went into the snug. I turned left to follow the spirit. Darker at this
end of the hall, I walked slowly, trying to sense where the spirit went. I
shivered when I hit a cold spot and knew the spirit was close. I turned the
doorknob on the right and slowly opened the door. Puffs of condensation issued
from my mouth when I entered the room.

“Hello?” I whispered. “I know you’re here – I only want to
talk.” I continued further into the room, slowly, looking around as I went.

As a rule, I didn’t go looking for ghosts. But this was
different. This one, I definitely wanted to speak to.

When I hit the coldest spot in the room, I stopped. My heart
rate and breathing accelerated. Hair on the back of my neck stood up, chills
went up my arms. It happened this way with spirits I didn’t know. Not like with
Franny or Hannah. The unnatural chill told me the spirit was within a few feet
of me.

“Shelly?” I whispered.

A shimmering figure materialized gradually in front of me.
Dark-skinned, big brown eyes and long dark hair. Her face was partially in
shadow. She looked sad.

“Yes,” said the spirit. “I am Shelly. And you’re the one
they’re talking about. The one who can see and speak to us.”

I nodded. “You’ve been following me...”

“Yes,” Shelly interrupted. “I don’t have much time.” She
looked left, then right, and then appeared inches from me without me seeing her
move. Her moves were furtive. Scared. She was totally freaking me out.

“What is it?” I whispered, darting my eyes around the room.
I was shivering and clenching my jaw tight so that my teeth couldn’t chatter.
Shelly was so close. I was getting totally creeped out.

“They’re watching!”

“Who?”

“They’re watching you. And me. They don’t like what you’re
doing.”

“WHO?!” Sure, mysterious dark entities concerned me. But
because I didn’t want to miss the opportunity, I said, “Tell me what happened
to you and Bart.”

At the mention of Bart’s name, Shelly’s face crumpled. She
put her face in her hands and wept, turning away. And that’s when she revealed
the shadowed part of her face, caved in on the right side. Blood and bone sunk
deep in a concave, her eye...crushed.

Nausea assailed me.

Suddenly an intense cold filled the room, colder than
anything I had ever experienced. The room grew darker, the air suffocating.
This was no panic attack. This was real. I threw myself at the door, but it
wouldn’t open. Shelly had disappeared as soon as the darkness came.

“Help!” I screamed and banged on the door. “Somebody help
me!” The dark
thing
began to envelope me in coldness. My limbs went weak
and numb.

And then voices and banging came from the other side of the
door.

“Indigo! Are you in there?” yelled Badger.

“Yes, I’m here! I can’t open the door!” Scuffling noises
came through the door.

“Stand back!” yelled Simon.

I stepped back, the vibrations of their shoulders against
the door like a mini earthquake. Once, twice, three times. The door didn’t
budge.

“Light!” I shouted through the door. “I need light!”
Animal-like whimpering issued through my lips as I pressed flat against the
door, leaving my backside vulnerable to the dark and cold.Footsteps ran down
the passage, and then somebody was back, shining a flashlight under the door.
The darkness in the room receded, taking the coldness with it. And then a loud
“click” echoed in the room. I jumped back as the door popped open. Badger was
the first through the door and I threw myself into his arms. Simon and Riley
shone torchlight around the room.

“Ewww,” said Riley. “What is that awful smell?” She sniffed
and gagged. “It’s like burnt...dog crap...or something equally disgusting!”

“Bloody hell!” exclaimed Simon, trying to cover his nose and
mouth with his sleeve, but gagging anyway.

“Come on,” said Badger, his arm still around me. “Let’s get
out of here.”

We tumbled out of the room into the hall. The door banged
closed, a loud echoing click indicating that something had locked it behind us.

I pulled away from Badger. I had done it again. Had to be
rescued from myself. When would I learn to hide the crazy?

We looked at each other, wide-eyed.

I shook my head. “I...I’m sorry.” I stumbled down the
dimly-lit hall, heading toward the front door as fast as my trembling legs
could take me. I ignored the footsteps behind me, desperate to be home, where I
could hang my head in shame without any further witnesses.

A hand reached out and swung me around. “Indigo, stop!”

I couldn’t listen.
You’re a walking disaster
still
echoed in my head. “No! Let me go.” I struggled to be free, but Badger clung to
me tightly, pulling me into his arms, restraining me with a bear hug.

I tried hard not to cry, truly I did. But when the struggle
was up, the tears flowed over the dam and down my cheeks.

Simon, his arm around Riley, watched from the dim corridor.

Riley whispered, “My God, how does she do it? Deal with that
day after day?”

“Come on,” said Simon, leading her into the snug, with one
last glance toward me and Badger. “She’ll be okay now.” But I wasn’t so sure.

Once the tears stopped, I pulled away from Badger. I wiped
my eyes like a child, with the heels of my hands and sniffed. Searching my
pocket, I pulled out a tissue and blew my nose. Since last night’s fiasco, I
came prepared.

“Indigo. Look at me.” Badger said it like a caress, warm,
and soft like velvet. He ran gentle fingers through the long strands of my
hair, bringing it forward to rest across my breasts, tugging lightly.

My resolve melted, just a little. But I shook my head. Nope,
couldn’t do it, not if I wanted to maintain my dry-eyed nonchalance.

He tilted my chin up, forcing me to look into his eyes. So
close, I could make out the dancing amber specks in his brown eyes. So close, I
could plunge my fingers into his unruly brown hair. His head lowered slowly,
hesitating only inches away before his lips touched mine, light as air. And not
a fake kiss this time. Okay, a make-up kiss that probably didn’t mean anything.
But I wished my hopeful heart would just shut the hell up.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I never meant to hurt you. All
of this – it’s all my fault, don’t you see? Not yours. You were my
responsibility and I kept letting you down.”

I shook my head in denial. “No, it’s me.”

He hugged me silently, leaning his chin on top of my head.
Neither of us said anything for a few minutes. Did I mention he was an awesome
snuggler?

“Come on.” He threaded his fingers through mine and led me
into the snug.

Simon and Riley, heads together and whispering, sprang apart
when we came into the room. I wondered vaguely if they...but no. They were only
friends. I smiled weakly at them. “Sorry about that. A mini meltdown, but I’m
okay now.”

“Don’t,” said Riley, shaking her head. “Don’t you dare
apologize. None of this is your fault.” Her red sweater played off the
highlights in her shiny hair and her blue eyes sparkled with intensity.

The kindness brought renewed tears, which I managed to choke
back down.

I was still trembling when I went to pour a cup of coffee.
My hand shook so badly I had to put down the pot before I could pour it.

“Here, let me.” Badger closed the distance with two long
strides and poured a cup for me. “Why don’t you sit down?” He looked worried.
“You’re pale. I mean more than usual.”

“What the bloody hell happened?” Simon blurted, unable to
contain himself any longer.

They were all looking at me, waiting for my response.

“I...” My voice quavered. I cleared my throat and began again.
“I saw Shelly.”

The group sat transfixed, eyes wide, including Hannah. She
had wedged herself between Simon and Riley, as wide-eyed and attentive as they
were. The snug was dark except for a low-lit lamp and the wood crackling in the
fireplace as it struggled to catch. The glowing coals cast dancing shadows over
our faces. 

Finally, Badger spoke. “I don’t understand. Shelly locked
you in that room? But why? Why would she do that?”

Flames finally caught and leapt to life.

“No,” I said, shaking my head. I leaned forward. “There was
something...” I searched for the right word, “dark... in there with us.” I
looked at Simon.

“You mean, like, that shadow thing?” he asked.

“Yes. The Shadow.” I crossed my arms, rubbing them, suddenly
cold again. I looked at the confusion written on Badger’s and Riley’s faces.
“The Shadow – that’s what I call it – is something that’s been following me.” I
turned to Badger. “Do you remember that day when I was out jogging?”

“You mean that day you came barreling out of the ginnel and
ran me over?” He shook his head. “No.”

I cocked my head at him.

“Okay, yes. But I wasn’t going to mention it.” He flashed an
impish grin.

I grinned back. “I’m glad to see your sense of humor has
returned.”

But the lighthearted moment didn’t last long.

“The Shadow was there, that day in the ginnel, and in that
back room tonight. I’ve also seen it out front in the pub. It’s after me – it
wants something.”

“But what exactly is it?” asked Riley. She struggled hard to
understand, as did Badger and Simon. But Hannah’s frightened face told me she
understood.

“I – I’m not sure.” I hesitated. “It’s a dark entity, I know
that for sure.” I wanted badly to explain it to them right, but how could I
when I didn’t understand it myself? “It doesn’t have a form, not like the
regular sort of spirit. Regular spirits look like they did in life, only not
solid. Sort of see-through and shimmery. The Shadow doesn’t have a form – at
least not the form of a person. It’s like a black cloud of smoke that hovers
above the ground. It’s fast moving and swirls and makes this sort of unearthly
moaning sound. And the smell, like burning dog poop. But the worst part is you
can feel the negativity pouring from it, evil, cold and dark.”

Badger agreed with my assessment. “That was completely
bizarre. Did you see the door slam and lock behind us of its own accord?”

“But here’s the thing,” I continued. “Shelly wanted to tell
me something. But she was afraid. She said the Shadow was watching. I sensed it
lurking and then the room grew freezing cold and it filled the room with that
rotting odor, pouring out evil, and then it locked me in – and then Shelly
disappeared before she could tell me what she had to say.” I finished in a rush
and took a deep breath. “And then you guys came.” I shrugged. “No, wait,” I
said. “Her face...”

“Let me guess,” said Badger. “Bashed in.” Not a surprise to
any of us. Bashing heads seemed to be the murderers M.O.

“So that’s three murders,” said Riley, frowning. “But why
was Shelly with that thing?”

No one had an answer.

“Bloody hell,” said Simon, “I hope I never meet it. I mean
face-to-face. Through the door was bad enough.” He shuddered. 

Hannah nodded in agreement, whispering. “Lor, Miss. It
frightens me somethin’ awful.”

“But what does it want from me?” I focused my sight between
Simon and Riley, both thinking I was speaking to them. They shrugged and shook
their heads. “Not you two – Hannah.” I pointed. “She’s sitting between you.”

“What?”
Their voices echoed in unison as they quickly
moved apart.

“Oh, Hannah is in here quite often with us. She knows
everything that’s going on, don’t you Hannah? She especially likes cell, er,
mobile phones.”

“Yes, Miss. I’ve learned how to use them. There never was
such a thing in my time.” She leaned in and whispered, “You lot would have been
burned for witches.” She said it with relish, as if a day at a hanging was the
best entertainment ever.

We were getting off track. “But Hannah, what does it want?”

Her form flickered in and out. She glanced around furtively.
“Your soul, Miss.”

“My what?”

“
What
what?” said Simon. “What’s she saying?”

I ignored him. “Why does it want my soul? What will he do
with it?” And then I remembered Shelly being frightened as well. “And what does
it want with Shelly – or you, for that matter?”

“Oh, it wants us as well, but it’s mostly you. You have a
most powerful energy, you see? You can speak with both sides equally. It’s
afraid of what you can do, that you will help the lost souls. It collects souls
and uses the energy to survive.”

“Oh.”

“What?”
The gang was getting impatient, hearing only
my side of the conversation.

I filled them in.

“That is so freaking scary,” said Riley, her hand covering
her chest as if willing her heart to relax. “What about my dad? Is it after him
as well?”

“Yes, I would think so.”

“What can we do?” asked Badger, agitated.

We were interrupted by a loud ping bursting into the room,
making us all jump.

“My phone,” said Riley, with an apologetic grimace. She dug
it out of her bag and opened the text message, scrolling down as she read.

Dread filled me. The last time that ping rang out, we found
out about Billy’s death and had a big blow-out and Badger called off the
investigation. Like Pavlov’s dog, I was already trained for the reaction.

“Well?” said Simon.

“Be patient,” said Riley, impatient herself. She didn’t need
to look at us to see the worry on all our faces. She read the text and stored
the phone back in her bag.