“I’m usually an open-minded person.” Lilac paused as if her next thought had slipped away. I was guessing there was a “but” waiting in the wings.
“And we’ll just wait while the green-haired, positive-energy medium lady states the obvious.” Clarence snickered until I shot him a warning look.
Lilac shifted to face me more squarely, thereby excluding Clarence from the conversation. “So, let’s say, in my open-mindedness, that I might just believe you. What’s your deal? Why do you need me if you’re hanging out with a possessed cat?” She squinted, examining me like I was a nasty bug she might squish, then took another step back. “Wait, are you possessed, too?”
“Oh, no. He’s death.”
“Clarence, will you stop it with the death talk?” I said. “It’s creepy.”
Lilac snatched a crystal off the shelf next to her—not a particularly useful one, in my opinion—and clutched it tightly in her fist. “So . . . you are death or you’re not death?”
“One of the deaths. And no, not anymore.”
“One of . . . Wait, what do you mean, ‘not anymore’? What does that mean? How can you not be death anymore?” She was inching toward the side table where her cell phone was stashed.
She was probably rethinking her decision to meet us alone again. I sighed. She seemed like such a nice lady. She had good energy.
“I’m retired.”
Hysterical laughter gurgled from her throat. “Retired?” she asked, her voice pitched much higher than before.
How was having a retired death in your store worse than having a working death in your store? I really was out of touch. “Retired, as in, I don’t do that kind of work anymore. Retired, as in, with a pension and healthcare. My prescription plan could use a little work and my dental isn’t the best, but otherwise, it’s a pretty nice package.”
She broke out in belly-deep laughter. Wiping at the tears in her eyes, she said, “You’re kidding.” But the look on my face must have said otherwise, because she stilled, tilted her head, and blew out a harsh breath. “You’re not kidding.”
“Yes! Score one for Team Death.” If he’d had a fist to pump, I was sure Clarence would have been pumping away. As it was, he had a creepy Cheshire grin plastered to his face.
“Retired,” I reminded him. He really liked to forget that part.
“Team Retired Death?” His grin faded a little. “No, that doesn’t work.”
Lilac tucked her hair behind her ear. “If you were death—”
“One of the deaths. There’s a bunch of us.” I shrugged. “It’s a big job.”
“Okay. That’s what you used to be, but you’re a normal guy now?”
That was sticky, so while I stuck to the truth, I omitted some information. “I’m human.”
“Uh-huh. You’re human, but you used to be death.”
“I get that it’s confusing, surprising, disturbing—but if you’re good with Clarence being possessed and me being retired, can we talk about my problem?” I wasn’t insensitive—at least, I didn’t think so. It was just that sometimes people dealt with stressful situations better if they had a specific task to focus on.
“Out.” She said it quietly at first, so I might not have moved as quickly as I ought. “Out. Out, out, out, out! Get out of my shop right now!”
Perhaps I’d miscalculated in requesting her help. I rubbed my ears after she hit a particularly high note. Her response didn’t seem in alignment with the new age feel of her shop.
“Out!”
Definitely miscalculated.
11
Tuesday late morning
Lilac hadn’t been in the proper state of mind for a consult—her shrill demands that we leave might have tipped me off—but I’d managed to leave my card with a scribbled note on the back before making a hasty exit. Waiting around until she’d calmed down hadn’t been an option in case she decided to call the police.
Leaving her in that unsettled state had been a gamble. She might talk, she might not, and if she did, there was always the possibility of someone believing her. But I was wagering she’d keep it to herself. That she’d consider the possibilities. Lilac seemed like a lady who was open to the possibilities.
And if she did tattle to the world, there was always the looney bin. Denial was my friend, and I’d deny, deny, deny till the cows came home, in the hopes that she would be the one who'd end up in a room with padded walls and not me.
Each of those scenarios involved risk, which resulted in a corresponding amount of stress. Added to that, I still didn’t feel comfortable in my own home. The failure of my appointment with Lilac to produce even the hint of a viable ghost repellant or warning system meant that I hadn’t a clue how pest-ridden my place was. Exactly how many ghosts had Clarence not told me about? And were they hovering around in the corners of my home right now?
Which was how I ended up at the library.
I liked libraries.
They were quiet, peaceful places. They also weren’t likely to be the scenes of murder or suicide, and highly unlikely to have had any event transpire within their walls that would make a ghost more likely to reside there.
My neighborhood library was set apart from the residential area slightly, so I had hopes that it didn’t get short-range ghostly travelers.
Without the threat of a ghostly pest peering invisibly over my shoulder, I could think. And with Clarence absent, I could think without interruption.
Even Clarence yielded when I mentioned my destination. He’d finally caved on the emotional support cat issue, since landing me in federal prison—an unlikely end, but one I nonetheless had played up as a possibility—would result in my replacement. A known evil was better than an unknown in Clarence’s eyes, or so it seemed.
It was frustrating that I’d landed amid so many ghosts with the purchase of my new home.
Ghosts weren’t actually
