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The lines of amusement around his eyes disappeared. “You ask a lot of questions.”
“I’m training to be a cop, remember? Asking questions is part of the job.”
I was pushing him too far. Without a weapon or more information, my best bet was to leave and come back when Solomon was no longer here. If I was right about his role as a cleaner, the house would be vacant by tomorrow.
“I haven’t decided yet. As you said, this is a nice town. Might be a nice change for me.”
“I’m relatively new myself. If you need any tips… ”
“I’m good, thanks.” He pointed to the basement door. “If you don’t mind. I’d like to get back to work. There’s an issue with the boiler I’d like to fix today.”
“Good luck. Hewitt’s is the local hardware store in case you need any tools.” I started toward the kitchen.
“The door is that way.” Solomon pointed toward the front door.
There was no way I could leave without the pricey pyxis that I’d left on the counter.
“I grew up in the South,” I lied. “It’s customary to enter and exit through the kitchen door.”
I walked to the rear of the house and snatched the pyxis from the counter. My heart pounded as I hurried to the driveway where my truck was parked. Another stubborn minute and I had a feeling Solomon would’ve showed me what kind of magic he was capable of.
I backed out of the driveway slowly, as though oblivious to the danger I’d just faced. Even if he sensed I was a supernatural, it didn’t prove I was there for another purpose. Lots of humans unknowingly had supernatural blood and lived their mundane lives without ever learning the truth. For all Solomon knew, I could be one of them.
I didn’t look at the window to see whether he was watching me. I assumed he was. As I pivoted onto the road, I gave the house a friendly wave for good measure.
Relief washed over me as I put the house in the rearview mirror. I would live to break and enter another day.
“I need more time,” I told Fatima on the drive back to the Castle. Twice I double-checked my rearview mirror to make sure Solomon wasn’t tailing me.
“What is it now?” Fatima asked. “Is Bruce’s ghost still being difficult?”
“Yes. He doesn’t want to leave. He thinks he’s still alive.”
“I saw that movie,” Fatima said. “Ask him what he was wearing when he died, and then tell him he’s still wearing the same clothes. Then he’ll know he’s dead and leave.”
“Ghosts can change their clothes.”
There was a pause on the other end. “You’re not stuck in the clothes you’re buried in?” she asked in disbelief.
“No. You can wear anything you wore during your life.”
“Even if it was only one time? Like a wedding dress?” She inhaled sharply. “Will it still fit even if you were heavier when you died?”
For someone who didn’t believe in ghosts, Fatima’s mind was working overtime. “It’ll fit. You can wear your wedding dress.”
“Well, this is the best news I’ve heard in a long time.”
“Happy to oblige.”
“I mean, I hated my wedding dress. I only chose it to win my parents’ approval, but it’s nice to know I can wear it if I’m in the mood.” She paused. “What am I saying? I won’t be hanging around as a ghost. I’ll be questioned by the angels and then collect my heavenly rewards.” She paused. “Although the infinite access to wardrobe changes is appealing.”
“Would you mind sending me a copy of the deed? You can just take a photo of it and text it to me if that’s easier.”
“Why do you need to see the deed?”
“I’m lining all my ducks in a row.”
“You’re not supposed to be lining any ducks. You’re supposed to be vacating ghosts.”
