lame way to approach a ghost maybe, but there was no magic way to summon a spirit. They didn’t have a special code. There was no response, only silence filled the air. Then after a few seconds, a rustling noise sounded from the corner. Oh heavens, please not a rat. Or even a squirrel or a possum.
“If there is someone here, please speak to me,” I said.
I swore that was when I heard a cough. Since I was pretty sure possums or rats didn’t cough, I felt a little bit better knowing that a wild animal wasn’t waiting to eat me. Of course, now I had to worry about whether this was a demonic force. That was a whole different story that I didn’t want to have to deal with at the moment. I would for Mindy, but I really just wanted a break for a day. Was that too much to ask?
“What’s going on up there?” Callahan called from downstairs.
“Everything’s fine,” I said, trying to sound confident.
The ghost would never speak to me as long as Callahan or Mindy kept talking to me. That was why I’d always liked to go on investigations alone. Not as many distractions. I appreciated his concern more than he’d ever know though. No one had ever expressed as much concern for me as he did.
“Who are you?” I asked. With any luck the spirit would answer and we could get this show on the road. There was a comfy bed calling my name.
Still no answer. The spirit was playing games with me.
“I know you’re here,” I said as I moved further into the room, trying to avoid banging a knee. “I heard you moving and coughing.”
Then the thought hit me: maybe Mindy had a squatter in her home. That could be very dangerous. If it was a spirit though, I wouldn’t leave without it speaking to me.
“Look, you’ve been bothering my friend and this is her home. So if you’re not going to speak with me, then you need to leave.”
When the words left my lips, a mist materialized in the corner of the room. I watched the form of a person take shape. It was a man in his mid-thirties. He was wearing a gray pin-striped suit and looked as if he’d stepped straight out of the Fifties. He had a cigarette dangling from his lips, but no smoke came from the tip. He puffed, then smiled at me.
“The name’s Grant Fine. I’ve been a resident of Magnolia since 1919. That’s the year I was born… a good year in-deed. Those were the good old days,” he said in a gravelly voice.
So much for a relaxing evening—I knew the ghosts would find me somehow. If they didn’t come to me, I went to them.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Fine. My name is Larue Donavan and I’ve been a resident of Magnolia since 1987. Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, why are you in my friend’s attic?” I asked matter-of-factly.
“That’s none of your business,” he snapped.
I scoffed. “So that’s how it’s going to be.” Who did this guy think he was? “Look, this is my friend’s house. You’re on her property. I think you owe her an explanation.” I glared at him.
I hated being mean to the ghost, but sometimes it was the only way.
“I don’t owe her anything. Why should I tell her anything?” He took another drag from his ghostly cigarette.
“It’s the polite thing to do, that’s why,” I said, crossing my arms in front of my chest.
He tapped ashes off onto the floor, but they disappeared before they even hit the ground. “I’m dead.” He looked me straight in the eyes. “I don’t have to be polite anymore.”
What was I supposed to say to that? He had me there.
“Well, whatever you say, but you can’t stay here in her home. If you tell me why you’re here maybe I can help you. I’ve done this a time or two.” Hmm. That sounded weird. Maybe I needed to clarify what it was that I did.
“That’s thrilling, but I don’t need your help. I’m fine. Mr. Fine.” He cackled at his joke.
I glared. “I don’t think you are fine. You’re dead and hiding out in an attic, smoking an imaginary cigarette. That’s not my idea of fine.”
I hated to be so blunt. The truth hurt, but I had to tell him. He didn’t answer, and before I asked another question, he disappeared in a puff of smoke just