I smiled, shook my head, then transported to Jaime’s apartment.
9
IF I SUCCEEDED IN GETTING RID OF JAIME’S STALKER-SPOOK, I was supposed to go to her apartment and wait for her there. When I found her apartment, I did indeed wait for her…waited at least a good ten minutes. Then I started hunting for clues to tell me where she’d gone. I found the answer on the calendar—she’d been invited to an event at some city councillor’s place. That didn’t give me much to go on, but I struck it lucky a second time by finding a small stack of invitations on her desk.
Of course, tonight’s wasn’t on the top of the pile. That would be too easy. So I had to drill down through them using my Aspicio powers. That took some work—I could easily have cleared a peephole right through the stack and the desk, but going down layer by layer was much tougher. After about thirty minutes of working at it, I got down to the right invitation. That provided me with an address. Then I had to pop back to my house in Savannah, grab my book of city maps, and find out where that address led. I only knew three travel codes for Chicago, so the closest I could get was six miles away. Could be worse, I guess, but it was still quite a hike.
When I finally arrived at the house, it was past midnight. The street was lined with cars, people spilling from the house, eager enough for fresh air that they were willing to brave the cold—or too drunk to notice it.
I found Jaime in the dining room, talking to an immaculately dressed and coifed woman in her fifties. Now, I’d learned my lesson back at the TV studio. Or, I should say, I admitted that Jaime had a point about ghosts shanghaiing her when she was in the middle of a conversation with a living person. So I hung back out of her line of vision, and waited. Waited some more. Waited another thirty seconds, then decided to slip closer and see if I could politely divert her attention.
As I drew near, I got a better look at Jaime’s companion. Even from the back, she screamed upper-class professional, with perfect posture, a designer suit, and short hair artfully laced with silver, allowing the appearance of a graceful descent into maturity. An executive or a lawyer, maybe even the councillor hosting the party. Her posture and gestures oozed the confidence of a woman who’s found her place in life and settled happily into it. But when I circled around enough to see her face, it told a different story. Deep-etched lines made me add another decade to my age estimate. Her eyes were rimmed with red but dry, her face taut, as if fighting to maintain composure.
“No, I completely understand,” Jaime said. “Believe me, it’s not a question of—”
“Is it money? Money is not an issue, Jaime. I’ve said that and I mean—”
“Money isn’t the problem.”
The woman’s hands clenched around a food-stained napkin. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult—”
“You didn’t. But I can’t help you. Honestly. If I could find your daughter—”
“I don’t need you to find her. Just tell me if she’s there. On the other side. I just need…it’s been so long. I need to know.”
Jaime snapped her gaze from the other woman’s, her eyes shuttering. “You need resolution. I understand that. But it doesn’t work that way.”
“We could try. There’s no harm in trying, is there?”
“There is, if it gets your hopes up. I—I’m sorry. I have to…”
She mumbled something, and darted away. I followed her through the next room and out the back door. She hurried past those gathered on the deck, and walked into the empty yard, pausing only when she reached the back fence and could go no farther, then leaned against it, shivering.
“That must be a shitty thing to have to do,” I said.
Her head jerked up, then she saw me. I walked over.
“You know you can’t help her. I know you can’t help her. But nothing you say is going to convince her of that. You did your best.”
Jaime wrapped her arms around her chest and said nothing.
“Got rid of your headless stalker,” I said. “If he ever comes around again, give me a shout, but I don’t think he will.”
She nodded, still shivering so hard I could hear her teeth chatter.