"And if you were to come to my house?"
"I would see it, too, if it were there. I might even see a number of them, depending on how extensively your house is haunted."
"Have you always been able to see ghosts?"
"No."
"And one day, it just happened?"
"You could say that."
"May I ask what prompted this change?"
"You may not," I said. "But it's nothing you need to worry about."
He had settled in evenly on both cheeks, which was never a bad idea. The topic, I suspect, interested him enough to ignore his apprehension. And as he sat and studied me, I studied him, too. In particular, his strange aura. Never had I seen a completely red aura before. Just red. Pure blazing roja, as they say in Spanish. Why I felt a need to think in Spanish at that moment, I didn't know. Why his aura was red, I didn't know that either, but I felt it endlessly fascinating.
"Seeing ghosts on a regular basis..." Charlie shook his head. "I don't envy you, Ms. Moon." He was loosening up, which I liked to see. I don't do well with uptight. Still, there was something off about him, and I wasn't just talking about the massive bags under his eyes, or the weird red aura. He seemed... lost. Unsure of himself. It was the way he sat, the way his eyes sort of seemed to look through me. I would have guessed he wasn't all here, despite his earlier tough-guy act.
"Oh, ghosts aren't so bad," I said. "They mostly keep to themselves, except when they don't. Are you married?"
"Yes. I mean, no. Well sorta."
I waited.
"She left me four months ago."
"When did you start seeing the ghost?"
"About two weeks ago."
"Tell me about your ghost."
He did. The sightings were few and far between at first, and never did he see the ghost full on, which I found interesting. He could only see her from his peripheral vision, and then only in his hallway, which was adjacent, apparently, to his home office.
"Can you describe the ghost?" I asked.
"It's a she, and she's surrounded by blue light."
"Anything else?"
"Whenever I turn to look at her, she disappears."
I nodded, trying to understand, but couldn't. I said, "And you only see her in your hallway?"
"Yes."
"Is she doing anything?"
"Sometimes she appears to be standing."
"And other times?"
"Kneeling. But it's hard to say. I only get fleeting images of her."
"And you did say blue light?"
"I did, yes."
I considered dipping in his mind to see what he saw, but I suspected I would probably see soon enough firsthand, if he elected to hire me. Besides, dipping into his mind opened my own up to him, and that was never a good idea.
"Oh, there's one other thing."
I just loved when there was one other thing. "Go on."
"I only see her at midnight."
Chapter Three
Kingsley and I were at the brightly lit Mulberry Restaurant in downtown Fullerton. Perhaps too brightly lit.
"Don't you think The Cellar should be our hangout?" I asked, squinting, referring to the popular subterranean restaurant just down the street. "I mean it's dark and atmospheric and kind of perfect for two freaks like us." I pointed up. "These are Christmas lights, no? It's only September."
"They're not Christmas lights."
"They look like Christmas lights."
"They're a string of lights. Patio lights, I believe. They add atmosphere."
"And light," I said. "Lots of light."
"You are becoming sensitive even to artificial light?" asked my big (and hairy) boyfriend.
"Maybe. I hadn't thought about it."
"You're squinting," he said.
"I'm doing my best Clint Eastwood impression."
"Or not," he said.
"Is the light thing a problem?" I asked.
"Not for me, but it might mean there's a change going on in you."
"What sort of change?" I asked, but suddenly I didn't want to know the answer.
"I might mean the thing within you-"
"Elizabeth," I said, surprising myself when I corrected him with her name. I usually called her far worse.
"Yes, Elizabeth. It might mean she is, ah, asserting herself in ways you might not be consciously aware of."
"Asserting as in, taking over?"
"Not quite, but perhaps closer than before."
"Not over my dead body," I said. "Or my deader body. Or whatever."