The First Ghost (13 page)

“Really?” He perked up. “You met a man? That’s wonderful. What does he do?” In Walter’s eyes this is the measure of a man. He jerked the wheel to miss a pothole.

“He’s a doctor. I met him when I bumped my head.”

Walter nearly drove off the road. He was like a little kid bursting at the seams. As soon as we walked in the door he announced, “Imogene! Imogene, guess what. Our girl is dating a doctor. A doctor, Imogene.”

Mother appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on an apron she’d picked up at last year’s Christmas bazaar that said
Kiss me, I’m Catholic
. “A doctor? Oh, honey!” She clasped her hands.

I dropped my coat on the couch. “I don’t know I’d say we’re dating. Walter asked if I’d met someone.”

“You aren’t going out?” Mother’s face fell.

“We have gone out, but only once.”

“Then you
are
dating. Kissed him yet?”

“Mother!”

Harry was in the background, already seated at the table. “Good for you. You can buy a house in the ’burbs near Ellie and procreate.”

“It’s a little soon to pick out the china pattern.”

“Can we meet him?” Walter asked.

“How about I get to know him first, okay? Then you guys can scare him off.”

It was hard to blame them. My last couple of boyfriends weren’t exactly husband material: a bartender, a telemarketer, and a drummer. I think the drummer scared them the most, but he was the most fun. Too bad the concept of faithfulness was lost on him.

Harry wasn’t in a chatty mood. He pouted at the table, knife and fork in hand. Mother frowned his direction as she set the serving platter down. Harry was in the doghouse for something.

Mother isn’t much of a cook. Tonight’s menu was dry pot roast, watery mashed potatoes and mushy veggies. But there was cheesecake and it was fabulous. Walter and I had picked it up from Perulli’s on the way home.

Walter carved generous slabs of roast for everyone, which meant fewer leftovers for him to choke down.

“So,” Mother said brightly, “other than dating a
doctor...
” She looked over at Harry, who blushed up the back of his neck and hunkered down over his plate. “...how is everything?

Some hint of twin solidarity made me blurt out, “I’m being evicted. Pass the potatoes.”

Harry made a snorking sound suspiciously like Billy’s. Walter paused, mouth open, his fork in midair.

“You’re moving home?” Mother asked.

“No, I’ll find a new place.”

“But why?” Mother asked. “You love your little place. Aren’t you paying your bills?”

“Hah! I bet it’s the dog,” Harry said. “I don’t know why you got the darn thing.”

Mother and I made eye contact. “I have to keep the dog for now. Then Ellie wants him for her kids.”

Mother put her fork down. “You’ve been to see Ellie?” I hadn’t meant to go there. I kept my head down and stuffed my face with creamed corn still tinny from a can.

“It’s no big deal. It was about the dog.”

I shot Mother a glare, daring her to have the conversation in front of Harry and Walter. She stabbed her roast. “We can talk about Ellie later.”

Harry looked much more cheerful now that I had been knocked off my perfect-child pedestal. As soon as the meal was over, he announced that he was taking me home, which was cool with me. I needed to take Billy out to piddle, assuming he hadn’t already peed all over the bathroom, and if I stayed, Mother was sure to rake me over the coals about Ellie.

I felt a headache coming on and wasn’t in the mood to confess my plan to Mother, but I wasn’t crazy about the idea of lying to her about my involvement with Ellie, either. Avoidance really was the best solution.

Harry slammed the door to his Chevy Nova and rocketed down the drive, barely tapping his brakes at the stop sign before careening toward the outlet for the cul-de-sac. “I’m ready to move out,” he announced.

“Since when?” I gripped the armrest and closed my eyes.

“Since now.”

“I thought you liked having Mother cook and clean for you. It’s like your own personal maid service, but it’s free.”

“So why don’t you still live at home?”

“Because it’s pathetic to still live at home.”

“Then that’s why I want to move out, too.”

I grinned. “You’re in the doghouse.”

“I want to do what I want, when I want, and have whomever I want over.”

“Hah! Mother caught you with a girl, didn’t she?”

Harry scowled and merged onto the freeway at ninety miles an hour, swerving across three lanes of traffic, oblivious to indignant horns and fingers. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I knew it. She busted you with one of your little girlfriends. Were you making too much noise?”

“She and Walter were supposed to be gone, okay? They missed their movie and came back. Walter probably got the time wrong.” He changed lanes on a whim, without apparent reason or logic.

“Walked in on you? Wait. You aren’t saying she came into your room?” Harry’s room above the garage was sacrosanct. Mother never set foot in there if she could help it.

“I said I didn’t want to talk about it,” he said through clenched teeth.

My eyes narrowed. “You weren’t in your room, were you?” This detective stuff was fun. “You were on the couch. Please say you weren’t actually boinking this girl on Mother’s couch.”

“Hah, hah, hah. Glad my life is so hilarious. I most certainly was boinking Angelique and having a damn good time if you must know. Geez, you would think no one ever had sex before the way she carried on. I guess it’s not as fine as boinking a doctor. Are you done making fun of me?”

“For now.”

“Good. ’Cause your getting evicted is perfect timing.”

“Excuse me?”

“We should get a place together. Roommates. I could afford a way better place with a roommate. So could you. The problem is, most people piss you off.”

“You piss me off, too.”

“But we can live together. This is a proven fact.”

It was a proven fact. Harry and I could live together without bloodshed. We had done so in the past. “Did you have a place in mind?”

“How about never being evicted again?”

“What do you mean?”

“We should buy a condo. They’re selling these condos over in Benton. It’s not far from your new gig, and I know you love the city but it’s close enough. If we pooled our incomes, I’ll bet we could swing it.”

“I don’t know.” Benton is an older ’burb close to Canterbury Park. It’s cute and a little trendy, but at least it’s not like the McBurbs stuffed with chains and strip malls. “Benton’s got a lot of older buildings.” Which were probably riddled with ghosts. “Old buildings have problems.”

“This is all new construction. You should see the pictures. It’s a cool building and the condos look plush. We could pick the interior. They’ve already got the exteriors built. With the housing market the way it is, things are really cheap. It’s a good time to buy, and I know you have savings. You squirrel away your pennies. There’s even a little courtyard for your dog to piddle in. He’s not destructive, is he?”

“Not at all,” I lied. “Besides, he’s going to live with Ellie soon. Okay, I’ll think about it.”

“I’ll take you out there tomorrow and show it to you. They’ve got a real town square, and the condo building is right in the commercial district so you can walk places. And there’s bus service, too. Plus you can borrow my car whenever.”

“Enough.” I held up my hands. “I’ll look.”

* * * *

Billy was happily stretched out on mounds of fluffy stuffing spread around the bathroom. Rip-proof dog bed, my ass.

I took him outside so he could contribute to the small colony of dog turds he had deposited under the scraggly evergreens. Someone would have a nasty surprise when the stench of summer arrived, but we would be long gone by then so I really didn’t care.

I did care about the messages I had on my voice mail. Starla and Corinne both watched in stony silence as I hit play. The first message was from Ethan. “Hi, Portia. Just called to say I had a great time last night and I hope you did, too. Maybe we could get together for dinner this week. Give me a call.”

Yes! Yesyesyes! I danced and hugged my phone. “He called.” Ethan had perfect timing. He had waited a full day, which was appropriately eager, but not too stalker-ish. And he had lobbed the ball back into my court by asking me to call him. Oh yeah. I was gonna keep him around even if he was—

“He’s too short for you,” Starla said. She had apparently mastered the art of chewing gum and smoking simultaneously, neither of which I was aware that ghosts could do. But since I couldn’t smell the smoke, maybe it was a ghostly illusion. “You look stupid together.”

“I can’t believe you’re wasting time on a date while our murders go unsolved,” Corinne said.

“Hey, I spent the day on you guys. I humiliated myself with a detective and got Corinne’s old job. Both of you can shut the hell up.”

The next message was from Susie Simpson. “I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Corinne Simpson’s aunt.” Corinne made a strangled little noise. “I’m flying into town in two days, and I wondered if you could help me go and get Corinne’s stuff. Ruth hasn’t been real helpful.” She left me her number.

“Goodie for both of you,” Starla snarled. “Meanwhile, I’m lying dead under a woodpile and nobody gives a shit. The only person who missed me was my boss, and that was because I didn’t show up for work.”

Billy was thrilled with all the activity. Snorking happily, he raced off to the bedroom. A moment later he was triumphantly carrying his favorite toy, which I had nicknamed Dingo. Don’t ask why.

He noisily savaged Dingo, tossing him and catching him and shaking him from side to side as violently as a dog with no neck can. I had excess energy myself, but my mode of attack was cleaning my apartment. In the bedroom, I made a disturbing discovery. It hadn’t shown up on the buff carpet that was the same color as his coat, but the corner of my bed where Billy slept was covered in pug fur.

Pugs shed.

A lot.

I located a lint roller in dresser, but I was going to need a bunch of them.

Billy dragged Dingo into the room, tossing and catching him.

“How come you aren’t bald?” I made a fourth pass over my crimson comforter with the lint roller.

He blinked his bug eyes and wheezed, his tongue hanging out the side.

Before bed, I had to take Billy outside again to do his business. Starla and Corinne followed me out there.

I stood by the bushes, barely paying attention, and tried to decide if the pot of boiling water in my kitchen should be used for cinnamon tea or chamomile. Maybe a nice mint tea.

At the same moment the foul odor hit my nose, Billy’s hackles rose and he growled. A more menacing rumble came from another throat.

“Run,” I yelled.

Corinne screeched and went one way. Starla went the other. The demon threw back its head and bayed like a hound at the moon.

“Ar-ar-ar-ar.” Billy barked for all he was worth.

The demon hesitated and then pursued Corinne, who fled in the direction of my apartment. It disappeared through my front door, and I raced after it, flinging my door wide open. The demon stood in my kitchen, with its nose raised, like an animal scenting the air, methodically sniffing my cabinets.

I ran in, heedless of Billy barking madly at my heels. “Stay away from her. You aren’t welcome here.”

The demon paused and said something in its guttural voice.

“Did you hear me? Leave! I command you to leave!”

I swear it laughed. It raised arms equipped with glistening claws and heaved its sluglike bulk at me. I grabbed the only thing I could think of to swing at it.

The teapot shattered as it struck the demon, spraying the creature with boiling water and burning my hands. I hadn’t expected the thing to be so solid. It howled in agony and then fled through my kitchen wall.

For a moment I lost Billy, but he peeked out from behind the sofa. He hadn’t been underfoot when the pot had shattered.

A few minutes under cold water helped my red, painful hands, and some aloe helped a great deal. My arms had been protected by my thick coat.

I had learned two important things. First: this place wasn’t safe. The demon knew it could find ghosts here. Second: demons can be hurt by boiling water. It wasn’t the most practical weapon, but good to know.

When I went to hang up my coat, I made a startling discovery. In the fray, the demon had swiped my coat. Three long, parallel slices gaped on the right side of the coat, revealing the white filler material.

Demons are dangerous.

Make that three things I learned.

It was my last free morning before starting back to work, and the knock on my door surprised me. I checked the peephole, expecting to see the manager with eviction papers, but it was a poorly dressed hulk.

I couldn’t think of a good reason for Detective Fierro to show up at my front door. I combed my hair with my fingers. My curls are lovely when properly tamed, but look like an orange fright wig first thing in the morning. Since I slept in sweats, I was sort of dressed.

He smiled when I opened the door, but I wasn’t fooled. Lots of nasty things had smiled at me lately, including a demon. “Good morning, Ms. Mahaffey.”

“Miss,” I said. “It’s miss. Come on in.” My hands were faintly pink this morning. Fierro noticed everything.

“Burn yourself?”

“I broke a teapot. But I have plenty of coffee. Want some?”

“Coffee’s good.”

I gestured to the kitchen table, mercifully free of the card players, and Fierro took a seat. He was a big guy, but moved with a sort of grace, the bulky outline more a function of bad clothing than a body gone to fat. His shirt stretched tighter as he leaned back in his chair. The man had muscles.

“Milk? Sugar? I’ve got half-and-half, too.”

“Black,” he said. “When you’re a cop as long as I been one, you learn to drink coffee however you can get it.”

I poured him a large mug of coffee and refilled my own, adding some froufrou French vanilla creamer until it was a lovely beige. “How long have you been a cop?”

“Nine years. I’ve spent the last four in the CAP Unit.”