Day Shift

13

Joe put his cell phone in his pocket and turned to Chuy. “We’ve been invited to a séance tonight,” he said.

Chuy, who was making a salad for their lunch, finished chopping the chicken and added it to the raw spinach and the toasted pecans. He began halving the grapes. “That’s a first,” he said. “What do you think? Is this really something we should do?”

Joe considered it. “It’s not like we didn’t know there are ghosts all around us,” he said. “We see them every day.”

Chuy tilted the cutting board to add the grapes. “Bacos?” he asked. “I’m assuming it was Manfred who called?”

“Yes to the Bacos, and no to Manfred,” Joe said. “Here’s the surprise. It was Olivia.” He gave Chuy his amazed face, and Chuy laughed. But then he said, “Poor Olivia.”

Joe nodded. “I think we should help them out. It’s not like they ever asked us for anything.”

Chuy began drizzling on a honey-based dressing. “All right, sweetie. By the way, have you been over to the hotel yet?”

“Not since you and I took the tour with Ms. Whatever.”

“There are three old people in there, and two geek-type people doing contract work with Magic Portal. There’s one man whose purpose I can’t discern.”

They sat down at the table and Joe served himself from the bowl. “This looks great, Chuy. Do you think we need to do anything about this one man?”

“I think we need to find out what he’s up to. We have to protect the boy.”

“We do,” Joe agreed. “Okay, I’ll see what’s up at the hotel.”

“Good. I have an appointment this afternoon, Myra Shellenbarger.”

“She’s fun,” Joe said, smiling. “She knows everything going on in a twenty-mile radius.”

“Or farther. And she’s not afraid to name names.” Chuy smiled back. “I like her. What you see is what you get.”

“It can be tiring knowing so many people with hidden depths,” Joe said. “Some days, shallow is good. This salad is great, by the way.”

“Got it out of Southwest Cooking,” Chuy said. “I left out the roasted corn.”

After that, the talk turned to cooking, and whether the U.S. Postal Service would stop delivering on Saturdays, and where Lemuel might be in his research project to discover more about the magic books he’d finally found, the ones that Bobo had hidden without meaning to.

There was not a reporter in sight when they strolled down to Manfred’s house just after dark. They glanced over at the newly rechristened Midnight Hotel.

“It’s still strange to see it lit up,” Chuy said. He was holding Joe’s hand. This was one of the good things about living in Midnight.

“But kind of nice. Sometimes when I look into the past, I can see all the stores here, busy and bustling. People all around.”

“Horses in the streets.” Chuy chuckled. “And the smell of them. And people who don’t bathe.”

“Do you ever wish we could see the future?” Joe asked. “There’s so much of the past that lives with us still.”

“No,” Chuy said instantly. He stopped walking and faced Joe, taking Joe’s free hand. “I would go mad,” he said, meaning every word.

Joe’s eyes met Chuy’s. “Then that won’t ever happen,” he said quietly. “The past is burden enough.” After a second, they began walking again. “I saw Mildred today,” Joe said, clearly changing the subject. “She was letting Hattie Barnes in the back door.”

“Mildred,” Chuy said, a wealth of rueful comments in the one word. “What a woman, so mistaken in some ways and so ahead of her time in others.”

“She certainly left her house to the right person, though I doubt she ever imagined Fiji would be stronger than Mildred herself ever was. If I remember correctly, Mildred considered Fiji the best of a weak lot.”

Chuy shook his head. “Mildred couldn’t imagine the scope of Fiji’s power.”

“And Fiji herself doesn’t know it yet.” The two were both smiling when Manfred answered the door.

“Glad you all were able to make it,” he said. “Please, come in. You want some water or lemonade? I’ve got some wine, but I don’t advocate drinking any alcohol before an attempt to get in touch with those who’ve gone ahead.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Joe said, trying not to cast a sideways glance at Chuy, with whom he’d split a bottle of wine at dinner. “I don’t believe I need anything. Chuy?”

Chuy shook his head. “Is Olivia here yet?” he asked. “I haven’t seen her today.”

“I’m here,” she called from the kitchen, and Joe followed Manfred into his alleged kitchen. Joe looked around, trying to suppress his dismay. He couldn’t imagine cooking in the depressing and outdated little room.

“Do you cook much, Manfred?” Chuy said, managing to make his tone only inquisitive.

“No, I’m a microwave kind of guy,” Manfred said. “You cook, Olivia?”

“No,” she said, with a little astonishment in her voice. As if she couldn’t believe they were talking about something so unimportant when there was business to be done.

Joe sighed. He realized that once again, he was being reminded to be grateful for the love and nurturing of Chuy, who loved to cook and considered the preparation of good food to be an important part of his day. “So, we’re here to contact the dead,” he said. “Mrs. Goldthorpe, I assume?”

“Yeah,” Olivia said. Joe drew near enough to see that Olivia’s face was bruised.

“You’re okay?” he asked.

“You should see the other guy,” she said, without a smile.

Chuy put his hand on Olivia’s shoulder, and she did not pull away. She even seemed, after a moment, to relax just a little.

“So what’s the procedure?” Joe asked.

“You sound interested,” Manfred said.

“I am. I’ve never done this before,” Joe said. He didn’t need to contact the dead, since he could see them all the time, but he didn’t add that.

“I’m glad you’re open to the experience,” Manfred said briskly. “I’ve pulled this table out so there’s room for all of us.”

So at least the kitchen doesn’t always look this crammed, Joe thought.

“We all sit around it and hold hands. I’ll try to summon Rachel. If she won’t come, I’ll try to reach her husband, Morton. He may not be willing since I don’t have Rachel to use as an attraction, but I can try.”

“The son accuses you of theft?” Chuy said.

Manfred nodded.

“Then we’ll do our best,” Joe said, and took Olivia’s left hand with his right, and Manfred’s right hand with his own left. Across the table, Chuy linked hands, too. Their eyes met, and in his partner’s, Joe saw almost infinite patience.

Olivia did not look excited or interested. She looked intent. And deep past that intensity and committal to move forward, Joe saw pain and suffering and rage. He sighed. One day Olivia would explode from this volatile combination, like a bomb. She was dealing out pain and violence to get rid of the rage, and probably Lemuel’s energy leeching helped. But the more violence Olivia dealt, the less effective it was in controlling the rage.

Manfred said, “Olivia, you need to relax.”

She took some deep breaths and managed to contain herself. “All right,” she said. “All right.” The tension dropped a few degrees, and Manfred’s power began to flow between their linked hands. It was strong and pure, and it glistened. Joe could see it, almost taste it. Joe began to see faces in that power, spirits drawn close by it. It seemed funny to him that Manfred could only sense the presence of the dead, when they were so visible to him and Chuy.

Not everyone came back, of course. Bobo’s girlfriend Aubrey hadn’t, and she’d been a murder victim. It was a fact that those who’d met violent deaths were much more likely to walk forever as ghosts. Joe had figured he’d see Aubrey striding across the barren land to reach the river or coming into the shop to play her irritating flirtation games.

But meeting up with the ghost of her murderer had been a much more painful prospect. Luckily Joe hadn’t seen that one, either.

Joe made himself look at the faces forming nearby. Mildred, well, that made sense. And he recognized the homeless man who’d roamed around Midnight for ten years, attracted by the town but scared of it, too. He saw a Native American woman who had something urgent to say, and she muttered it through Manfred’s lips… but in a language they couldn’t understand. Olivia’s eyes showed white all around at hearing Manfred speak in tongues, as it must have seemed to her.

Then Rachel Goldthorpe said, “I’m sorry he’s giving you trouble.” The other three hadn’t ever heard her voice, but they never doubted this was the dead woman.

Manfred was even sitting like someone else, Joe realized. His shoulders were slumped with age and illness, and he was a little back from the table as though there were more of him to accommodate. She must have been a heavy woman, Joe thought.

Silence reigned, and Joe thought, None of us know what to do. We all thought Manfred would question the spirit, if she appeared. They hadn’t foreseen it was possible that Rachel might inhabit the psychic.

Joe said, “Rachel, where did you hide the jewelry?” He was not frightened of the dead, but he was uncertain how to handle the situation, which was a first for him.

Rachel said, via Manfred, “In Morton’s study. Where Lewis will never look. He and his dad never got along.” She shook Manfred’s head sadly.

“Where in the study?” Joe asked, trying not to sound impatient.

“Inside…” It was like a cell phone had dropped the call.

“Inside what?” Olivia snapped.

“I see the world…” Rachel whispered, and then Manfred was back in his body. His eyes opened. He looked from one of them to another. “I feel like something happened,” he said. “Tell me what it was.”

“Are ghosts always irritating and vague? Is that part of dying?” Olivia said.

Chuy released her hand. “Olivia,” he said reprovingly.

“Well, it was exasperating,” she said. “At least now we know which room.”

“Could someone tell me what happened?” Manfred looked from face to face.

Joe said, “Rachel paid us a visit. She said she’d put the jewelry in Morton’s study, because Lewis and Morton didn’t get along. Inside something.”

“Inside what?”

“She didn’t tell us that. We lost the connection before she could specify. She said something about the world. How do you feel?”

“That’s the first time I’ve ever been taken over like that,” Manfred said. “Interesting experience, and a little too personal for me.” He seemed excited about the possession, rather than exhausted or terrified, which was what Joe would have expected.

“That was an interesting experience for all of us,” Chuy said. “I thought we’d be here for hours trying to summon a spirit, and she popped into you like a hand into a puppet.”

“I’m not sure I like that analogy,” Manfred said. “But I’ll accept it. I was definitely somewhere else.”

Olivia stared at Manfred. “I couldn’t do that,” she said. “I couldn’t lose control like that.”

“Then the chances are overwhelmingly good that you won’t,” Manfred said. “Usually, the spirits visit people who are open to the experience. I hate to sound all abracadabra, but it’s true. I have a theory or two about why spirits are so vague.”

“Let’s hear them.” Olivia got up and leaned against the kitchen wall. She seemed too restless to sit any longer.

“I think maybe they lose their hold on specifics about the world, in the first place. If you were in a whole new situation and had no contact with the universe you’d known all your life, you might not remember every little thing, either. If we can talk to a spirit, they’re sticking around because they haven’t reached their final destination, for whatever reason. But they aren’t in the world any longer, so a lot of worldly stuff no longer seems important to them. My alternate theory? They do it to aggravate us. Because if they aggravate us, they’re still important to us and interacting with us and affecting us.”

“Interesting,” said Joe. “In this instance, identifying the room and using the qualifying ‘inside’ may be specific enough. I don’t suppose there’s any way you can just go to the house and tell the daughters that’s where you suspect the jewelry is hidden?”

“No,” Manfred said. “Because they’ll say, ‘How did you know?’ And I’d have to answer one of three things: ‘A little bird told me.’ Or, ‘Your mom’s spirit possessed me and told my friends.’ Or, ‘I know it’s there because I hid it there.’ Guess which one they’d believe?”

“But at least the jewelry would be found, and the case would go away,” Joe said.

“Leaving my reputation ruined. Psychics don’t have much reputation as it is, and you can imagine that my business would sink like a stone if it was widely believed I’d robbed an elderly lady out of her sparklies and then tried to return them when I’d gotten caught out.”

“Plus, Lewis the asshole would go unpunished,” Olivia said. She pulled herself away from the wall and walked around the little room, unable to be still any longer.

“Olivia, you need not fear about that,” Chuy said. “In the end, Lewis will get whatever he has earned.”

Olivia gave Chuy a very skeptical look. “Right,” she said. She laughed, but it was a laugh that sounded anything but amused. “I would never have thought you, of all people, would say that.”

“Why?”

“Because you and Joe have faced such ugliness, being together,” she said, obviously editing as she spoke.

Joe looked at Chuy. “We try not to judge,” Joe said quietly. “There’s always a chance for redemption.”

“If that’s what you have to tell yourselves so you can live with all the assholes, so be it,” Olivia said. “But I don’t have to.” Her eyes were lit with the fire burning in her. To Joe and Chuy, it was visible.

Manfred said, “Who needs a glass of water?” The passion of the conversation clearly made him uncomfortable.

“That’s right, just sweep it under the rug,” Olivia said, turning on him.

“After being inhabited by a lady in her sixties, I feel I can do without any more upset tonight,” Manfred said, an edge to his voice.

“I see your point,” Olivia said stiffly, after a moment. “I’ll go back to my place. We’ll make another plan. I’ll check in with the Rev. How’s the little boy doing?”

“Not so little. He’s growing,” said Chuy. “Visibly,” he added.

“He’s taller than he was when he got here,” Joe said.

They all looked at each other.

“I was going to say, ‘How is that possible?’” Manfred shrugged. “I should know better.”