I eased away from behind the desk, and stood. Charlie shot me a glance but, interestingly, the ghost never looked my way. In fact, if anything, she looked even more distracted, more distraught. Now I could see the tears spilling from her eyes. Most interesting-yes, most interesting, I could see her lips moving. Rapidly. She was speaking. Now she bowed her head. Was she praying... praying?
I edged through the gap in the desks, and got a better look at the woman standing in the archway. She was beautiful and otherworldly. She seemed to take no notice of me.
"It's okay," I said to her, now about halfway from the desk to the arched opening. "I won't hurt you."
But my words had no effect. She just stood there, lips moving silently, and weeping. Since when could I see a ghost's irises and pupils? I was pretty sure that was never.
Because she's no ghost, I thought. What she was, I hadn't a clue.
I saw her perfect, even teeth, her impossibly full lips. She didn't seem real, as in, no woman really looked like that, did they? She could have been a Disney princess come to life. Or any man's fantasy come to life.
Now she bowed her head and held her fingertips to her lips, and now I was certain she was praying. A second or two later, she turned around and walked away, disappearing within a few steps. And just like that, she was gone.
Chapter Six
I was in Detective Sherbet's office, and I had just given him Charlie Reed's address and he didn't seem too happy about it. He mumbled something about ghost hunting, and that he was a real detective, and that he wasn't paid enough for this shit.
"You know I can hear you, right?" I said.
Sherbet shook his blocky head, and took his mumbling internally.
"Every thought, too."
He input the address and clicked the mouse harder than he had to. He squinted at the screen and blew air through his nose that whistled if you listened hard enough. The screen reflected off his glasses, making his eyes appear bluer than they were. Sherbet and I had a wide-open channel. He couldn't lie to me to save his life. We were tight like that.
"Too tight," he said. "And my head isn't blocky. My wife says it's proportionate to my body." He caught my next thought before I could barely think it. "And, no, my body isn't blocky, either."
"I like blocky men."
"You're one weird chick. Okay, got the address. There's nothing here."
"No murders? No deaths?"
"Nothing at all, Sam. Wait. A domestic disturbance call was made in '92. But that's it."
"What were the names?"
"Helga Antigone reported her two sons fighting in the yard to police. Apparently, she hosed them down before the police got there. My kind of woman."
"Two brothers fighting in thirty-five years? That's it?"
"'Fraid so."
I said, "Just because nothing was reported, doesn't mean there wasn't a murder," I said.
"That's my girl. Always looking on the bright side."
"You know I'm right," I said.
"I'd like to believe a girl wasn't murdered there, but, yeah, you're right."
"Except..." I began.
"Except she didn't look like a murder victim," said Sherbet.
"Just sometimes?"
"Yes, just sometimes. If you were a bitch all the time, I wouldn't be your friend."
"Yeah, you would."
"Yeah, I would. And I hate myself for that. Just be nice to me, okay? Friends like me don't come around too often."
"Keep telling yourself that," I said, and was about to finish off my set, when I yelped and released the rubber grips, both of which had melted in my hands. Smoke hissed off my reddening palms. I looked at Allison and noted the wicked gleam in her eye, a gleam I didn't see often enough. I kinda liked it. In fact, I liked when she stood up for herself, even if it was standing up to me. Especially when it was standing up to me. White smoke curled up from her index finger, the nail of which still glowed softly.
"You were saying, Sam?" she asked.
"Nothing," I said. "Nothing at all."
***
We were having smoothies in the gym juice bar. Mine was heavenly, and I powered through brain freeze after brain freeze-all of which tended to last only a few nanoseconds-until I'd sucked down nearly all the smoothie.
"You didn't come up for air once," said Allison.
"Don't need to," I said.
"There oughta be a medical review board for people like you," she said. "I mean, actual verifiable studies."
I shrugged. "Would take the fun out of it, I think. It's kind of nice not knowing your limits. And what's with the 'people like me' crack? You're not too far off the mark, either, you know."