Page 25 of Ghost in the Cupboard

Giving the notice from the county that I held in my hand another look, I stuffed it in the trashcan by the front door of The Lunch Counter. Upon entering the diner, I caught the scent of onions being prepped for the day. Fortunately, Ginny was working on the onions in the back of the diner, so my eyes didn’t immediately start watering. I slipped out of my coat and went to wash my hands before joining Ginny at the back of the diner.

“It’s every day with them, Si,” Ginny said as soon as I stepped into the prep area. “Sal is getting them riled up day after day. Before you know it, they’ll be running wild through town, setting stuff on fire out of panic.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle, but Ginny’s characterization of Sal and the other homeless folks in town didn’t sit right with me.

“They’re people,” I said. “Not wild animals.”

“People are wild animals,” Ginny said. “This has nothing to do with the fact that they’re homeless. It’s the fact that humans can be manipulated so easily into panic and disorder. Sal isn’t helping them at all, jumping to crazy panics every time the county posts a stupid notice on a dilapidated building.”

“Fair,” I said.

“She knows as well as we do the county is going to keep posting those form letters every now and then to keep them on their toes,” Ginny continued as she chopped an onion. “But they’re never going to follow through with the threats. Why would they waste money on the tools, supplies, and manpower, dealing with buildings that have been sitting vacant for years in Sage Grove?”

I laughed. Ginny explained the situation much better than I had. She should have talked to Sal and her group for me.

“You know that,” I said. “I know that. Sal and the rest of the camp group can’t help but worry. When you have no home, no real income, have food insecurity…it’s hard not to panic every time the county does something cruel like that.”

“I guess,” Ginny said. “I relent, okay?”

We both chuckled as we worked.

“However, you have to admit, you do so much for them and all they do is show up with problems and complaints,” Ginny said. “When are you going to say enough is enough and Victor Grimm this thing?”

She gestured vaguely at my head with her chef’s knife before she went back to chopping onions.

“Victor Grimm this thing?” I repeated.

“You know,” Ginny nodded, not looking up at me. “Sell out. Talk to spirits on T.V. for religious nuts looking for closure from grandma and whatnot? Help the police solve missing persons cases. Do TikToks. Have a merch store. That kind of thing.”

“I’m not certain everything you just said is even English,” I replied. “I don’t get involved with religious nuts, social media trends, or merchandise. And I don’t get involved in crimes.”

“Well,” Ginny said, “Victor does. Though I can’t say that I’ve heard of him actually helping to solve one. I’m not certain he’s very good at summoning spirits.”

He’s a charlatan, I thought to myself. An attractive man made up a persona, donned the regalia he thought would sell the vibe, and learned to con people. He can’t actually speak to spirits.

“Some of us have a moral code,” I said instead of letting all my thoughts leak out of my mouth.

“What kind of moral code keeps you from helping the police solve murders?” Ginny cackled. “Isn’t that the complete opposite of morality.”

“Okay,” I said. “Follow me here, all right?”

I set the bag of potatoes I had grabbed from the pantry by the prep sink and turned to Ginny. She set the knife down and turned to face me, her arms going across her chest.

“You die today,” I said. “Who are you mad at?”

“Let me get my list,” Ginny said with a snort.

“If you could peg your death on one of them, knowing there’s no real consequence for you, would you do it?”

“Why would a ghost do that?”

“Why wouldn’t a ghost do that?” I asked. “They’re just the spirit-slash-personality of the person they were in life. They’re the same as they always were, except floating around, invisible to most, without any substance. They can be rude, vindictive, cruel—also nice and moral and stuff—but there are no more consequences for their actions like when they were human and could go to prison. If they pin a murder on someone for giggles, it won’t affect them. So…how can you trust a ghost to tell the truth?”

Ginny thought about this, then her face brightened.

“What about Heaven and Hell?” she asked. “Wouldn’t the fear of eternal damnation or the promise of life in eternal bliss help them be moral?”

I flattened her with a frown.