Page 53 of Giving Up The Ghost
Someone behind me hissed, sighed.
Tugging again, the plastic gave a little, a cloying, meaty, wet smell rising as I pulled.
Everything went silent in my head, the rush of blood in my ears drowning out everything. Gingerly, I tugged back the sliding door.
Wrapped in plastic, staring up at me with empty, clouded eyes, was a woman.
CHAPTER 13
JULIAN
With more than a tinge of reluctance, I took myself off to the study so I could sit for a minute while I used the phone. My hip was screaming in pain, and my balance felt worse than usual today. Someone answered on the first try. Maybe when we were done here, I thought, we could just spend a week at a hotel with a comfy bed and room service and the rest of the world could fuck off while I elevated my leg and dipped into Ezra’s medicinal herb stash.
Chance would be a fine thing.
“This better be good,” they said, voice oddly pitched. Like a kid trying to sound like an adult. “Talk to me.”
They had a strong accent, similar to Heinrich’s when he wasn’t playing up his stage persona, and a cascade of giggles sounded in the background, whoever answered shushing their audience before clearing their throat. “I ain’t got time for pranks, kid,” they grumbled, barely stifling a laugh.
“You’re not Nadine.”
Another round of giggles and shushing. “I am so! Nadine. That’s me. Who’s this?”
Taking a chance, I recited the first bit of French that came to mind, a line from a Baudelaire poem. The person on the other end went quiet for a moment, snorted, and said “Bonjour. Comment ça va?” More laughter and a young-sounding voice shouted “Voulez-vous couchez avec moi ce soir?”
“Who gave you this phone?” I sighed.
“Fuck off,” the person snorted. “It’s my phone. I’m Nadine, aren’t I?”
“The person who owns this phone is currently missing. That makes you a suspect in their disappearance.”
Okay, that was a lie. Maybe? I’d have to check with Harrison or the Google Law School about that one, but it definitely shut up the little shit on the other end of the line. “Horseshit,” they mumbled. “I ain’t done nothing to no one.”
“Then why do you have a missing woman’s phone?”
“You a cop? If you’re a cop, why ain’t you here in person, huh? You can’t arrest me over the phone!”
“No but the call is being traced,” I lied, wincing at how ridiculous I sounded. CeCe’s love of crime dramas had finally been good for something, apparently. I’d have to thank her for making me watch all those episodes of copaganda when we got back to the States. “So, we can have someone at your location within the next ten minutes.”
They gasped, but someone in the background murmured something and then the speaker came back with a smug, “You’re not a cop cuz you’re American. You can’t doshitto me!”
“I’m with the CIA.”Oh my god.“And this investigation involves crimes across international borders. If you’re holding Nadine’s phone, that makes you complicit in her disappearance.” Jesus, there was a reason I didn’t go to law school. I had never been more thankful for a lack of cameras than right at that moment.
“Shut up.”
“Alright, suit yourself. See you in eight minutes.” I hesitated, waiting.
“Fuck you,” they muttered. “Some old bird gave me the phone. Said she’d give me a hundred quid if I said I was Nadine to whoever called.”
“Did she tell you why?”
“You gonna arrest me, Mr. CIA?”
“That’s Agent CIA. And not if you tell me what she said to you.”
“Nothin’. Just offered me a hundred and said the phone was mine in a week if I did what she said.”
“What was the older woman’s name? What did she look like?”
