Chad imagined it must be a peaceful feeling and envied the freedom he could experience all the time if it were possible. Nathan was only able to shift for about two hours, tops, but was working on lengthening his “free as a bird” time. Everyone needed a hobby. After a hard day at the morgue, he appreciated the break.
He talked to Chad sometimes. Nathan couldn’t hear him, but he could see him. So, Chad would nod and point to what he wanted. Sometimes it was like playing a game of charades.
I wish I could feel that free. Well, I can, sort of. Having no body, no bills, and no boss kicks ass.Of course, sometimes it was boring as hell.Probably more boring than hell, actually. If there is a hell.For all Chad knew, this was his hell. He’s been trapped in this building for over half a century, and for all that time, all he could do for entertainment was get his kicks vicariously.
Now that he’d learned a few tricks—like telepathic communication and moving objects with his mind, things were a little better. The séance was the most communication he’d had with the living for a long time.
Morgaine could hear him and Nathan could see him, but it was like hanging out with one person who’s blind and another who’s deaf—and no one else.I supposed it’s better than nothing.
I wonder what would happen if they got together? Morgaine and Nathan, I mean. Nah. They’re way too different. They don’t even like the same TV shows. Morgaine’s into the reality shows. I swear they can make a TV show out of anything these days.
And Nathan was into fictional dramas. He was even hooked on a couple of soap operas.If I let that slip, he’d kill me. Ha!Well, he can’t do that, but I’m sure he’d probably stop watching them just to spite me. Then I’d never know what happened with Robert’s amnesia and Bethany’s secret baby. Can’t have that.
Finally, the rest of the participants started arriving. Merry and Jason had just stepped off the elevator. Morgaine and Gwyneth left their apartment and were crossing the hallway. Konrad and Nathan were walking up the stairs, making small talk.I overheard Dottie telling Joe that her husband, the super, opted out of the séance, preferring to “keep an eye on the building.” Like it’s going somewhere?
Chad’s theory about those who protested most about not believing in the supernatural are usually blustering out of fear of it.I might like to test that theory with the super sometime—or not.It sounded like fun, but he didn’t need another convert to Dottie’soust the ghostmovement.
Everyone took their places around the table. Morgaine explained what they needed to do. Chad hoped the girl was up to the task. She was still having a hard time relinquishing control to him, but they’d only had a couple of practice sessions.
“Now if everyone will hold hands and close your eyes…”
As soon as the co-residents were linked and completely still, Morgaine did the deep pranic breathing required to clear her chakras and make room for Chad’s energy—or some such crap. She tried to explain it to me in spiritual terms. Funny that I’m the spirit, and I still don’t get how it works.All he knew was that it did. If everyone cooperated and didn’t disrupt her concentration, they might be able to pull it off.
Well, here goes nothin’.He eased into her, and she jerked ramrod straight.My energy must not be as flexible as I thought.
“Chad, if you can speak now, the detec—”
“Hello. Chad speaking.”
Dottie gasped as he channeled his voice through Morgaine.Well, what did she expect? That I’d sound exactly the sameusing Morgaine’s larynx as I did using Shandra’s?
If he somehow figured out another way to do this, he’d try it. Sharing a body wasn’t the most comfortable feeling in the world.I’d better nip her crazy reactions in the bud.
“Shut your piehole, Dottie, and let me speak to the nice detective. If you open your trap once, I’m gone. Understand?”
She scrunched her eyes shut and nodded.
“So, Detective, do you mind if I call you Joe?” he said.
Joe smirked. “Sure. If it’s good enough for the vice president, it’s good enough for me.”
“Ah, a politically aware detective. Perfect! Because my murder had to do with politics—big time.”
Joe narrowed his eyes. “Tell me, Chad, who do you think killed you?”
“What the hell? If I knew, I wouldn’t need you, would I? Detective, with all due respect, that’s why you’re here. To find out.”
He shrugged. “I just thought you might have some idea. You know… leads I could investigate.”
“Not really. I was minding my own business, typing the biggest article of my career for theBoston Telegraph, when two men in ski masks burst in. They didn’t say a word. Just worked me over like professional hit men.
“One of them yanked the paper out of my electric typewriter—we used those things back in the old days—and the next thing I knew, I heard a gunshot, and everything faded to black. When I came to, the place was upended. Couch cushions unzipped and tossed, all of my books scattered on the floor, even the kitchen cabinets had been rifled through.”
“So, were you dead yet?”
“Oh, yeah. Dead as a doornail. I didn’t know it right away, though. I just felt dizzy and a little stunned.”
“When did you figure out you were dead, and what made youthink you had been murdered?”
