“You could say that. Why do you want me to accompany you through the Murder House?”
“If there are ghosts in the house, maybe you could. . . . That is, you might. . . . Actually, now that I’m saying it out loud, I don’t quite know what I’m expecting you to do.”
“How about I try to communicate with them?” I suggested. “It’s possible they could tell me something helpful, about that night or about Linda’s recent death.”
Her eyes met mine. I had respected Annette Crawford since I met her. Liked her, even, as much as one can like someone whom one does not really know. I found her thoughtful, almost preternatural calm appealing. I identified with how she seemed vaguely pissed off much of the time, and wondered if she was always like that or if it was the murder scenes that put her in a bad mood.
“When should we do this?”
“You have plans right now?”
“It . . . takes a little preparation. There’s some equipment I should take with us, for example.”
“What kind of equipment?” The inspector’s customary skepticism had returned, replacing her open, almost vulnerable facade of a moment ago.
“Just your average, everyday ghost-hunting equipment,” I said. “Listen, I know it sounds odd. Believe me, I do. But dealing with ghosts is a lot more complicated than people realize, which is why I’m taking a class in it.”
“A class. Huh.”
Ooh, boy. Now she was raising one eyebrow.
“Look, you can’t have it both ways, Inspector: Either ghosts don’t exist, in which case you don’t need my help, or ghosts do exist, in which case it’s wise to learn as much as you can about them before seeking them out.”
She nodded, conceding my point.
“The equipment I have in mind measures energy frequencies, which helps to determine the possible presence of a ghost.”
“How does that work?”
“All of us on this plane of reality vibrate at a particular frequency, which we can see or feel. But there are other frequencies, like those whistles that dogs can hear but humans can’t detect.”
“So ghosts are like dog whistles?”
“Something like that. Ghosts exist on a frequency only a few people can sense. Like me. Special equipment, if properly calibrated, can also identify a spirit, ‘see’ a ghost, in effect. A recorder picks up sounds we hear only when we go back over the recording and amplify them. A camera can reveal movements too fast for the human eye to register. The electromagnetic field, or EMF, detector perceives energy we can’t feel.”
“Uh-huh.”
“That being said, I don’t usually use equipment, at least not properly.” My ghostly encounters so far had been the result of the ghosts’ reaching out to me, not mine to them. “I could go in cold. But we should wait until dark, when spirits are stronger. The quiet makes it easier for them to manifest.”
Another raised eyebrow. Not long ago, I would have had the same reaction. Sometimes I couldn’t believe what I heard myself saying these days. Nothing like a few ghostly encounters to alter one’s world view.
Nowadays, instead of rolling my eyes at the idea of ghosts, I was considering becoming a Catholic so I could have a rosary to clutch and recite. None of the ghosts I had met had actually harmed me, but they did scare the stuffing out of me.
“Here’s a thought: After my ghost-busting class tonight I’m doing the walk-through with Hugh and Simone. How about we make it a foursome? It might help to have Hugh there.”
“Tonight, then,” she said, standing and leaving a sizable tip on the table. “I’ll call and square it with the Lawrences. And, Mel? Thank you.”
“Anytime, Inspector.”
After Annette left, I hung around for a while chatting with Stephen, but the café started hopping with the before-work crowd, so we left. My mind was on murder and ghosts, so I had to ask Cookie to repeat what she’d just said.
“I’m sorry?”
“I saaaiiiid, mind if we stop at Sephora?” asked Cookie.
“What’s a For-a?”
“Sephora. Hello? The cosmetic store?”
“We’re not going shopping for makeup, Cookie. It’s a workday.”
“They do full makeovers, Mel,” she said, her eyes wide. “I’m just saying it wouldn’t hurt . . . Dad tells me you’re having trouble nailing down this Graham fellow.”
“Things are perfectly fine with Graham. Exactly as I want them to be. And if they weren’t, overpriced makeup wouldn’t be the solution.”
Cookie looked at me sympathetically. “A little rejuvenation wouldn’t hurt, would it? Every girl likes to look her best for her man.”