Page 31 of Ghostly
Wisps of unwanted—unwarranted—thoughts swirled again. The contract might be real and working after all. Ida would disappear.
And maybe, just maybe, a small part of him didn’t wish her to.
Chapter 8
Gabriel observed the town graveyard from his parked car. Located on a small hill on the outskirts, it nearly melded into the forest. Gravestones of all shapes and sizes and the occasional angel statue rose out of the brown-green grass like teeth out of a giant monster’s mouth.
He’d been in town, returning the books Ida had haunted and borrowing new ones, when it hit him.Fix something brokenturned out not to be as literal as he thought. Was there a twist to other conditions, too? A short brainstorming session on the way to his car led him to an idea: he didn’t takeenlightensomeoneliterally, but what if that was the twist? He had to, literally, shine a light.
And because this was apparently a day to be extra, he decided on something special.
Ida, as well as her family, would be buried here. She never mentioned any living relatives. Gabriel might be the first one to stop by their grave in awhile, and if so, paying attention to it and lighting a candle in remembrance might work as enlightening someone. Perhaps even Ida’s spirit.
What a great surprise that would be to Ida, too. He didn’t know why it mattered so much that she be surprised, but he could already imagine her jumping around the house in joy.
A flash of purple by the tall, wrought-iron gate interrupted his thoughts.
“Jason!”
The other man stopped and smiled in greeting. “Well, would you look at that. You must be thinking of staying, huh?”
“Sorry?”
“If you came looking for a plot,” Jason remarked cheekily.
Gabriel laughed. “Are you trying to sell me something?”
“Mmm, you’re a bit too alive for my services.” At Gabriel’s raised eyebrows, Jason laughed again. “Mortuary cosmetologist on the side. Well, the beauty salon was supposed to be on the side, but sadly not enough people die in this town.” He gasped and covered his mouth. “That’s off the record, by the way.”
“I’ll tell you what. I won’t mention you’re on the way to becoming a serial killer to earn a living, and you tell me where I can find the Huxley grave.”
“I can see you’re out of practice. That’s a terrible deal.” Jason leaned on the gate. “The northwest corner. It’ll be hard to miss—tall gravestone with two statues on each side.”
“Thanks.”
“You won’t find her there, though,” Jason said when Gabriel was already through the gate. “Your ghost.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Ida Huxley. The woman who’s supposed to haunt the house. She’s not buried with the rest of them.”
Well, that threw a wrench into his plans. The rest of the family was still there, and if this worked, Gabriel figured it worked for any neglected grave. Only he really wanted it to be Ida’s. But more importantly… “Why?”
Jason approached and continued in a low voice. “Word is she killed herself. Back then, the graveyard had a church, and they didn’t allow for her body to be buried on consecrated ground.”
Ida? Suicide? But she said she’d died of an illness.
“Jumped out of the window. The maid found her the next morning. I bet the family would’ve wanted to cover it up—an embarrassment, you understand—but with the servant knowing, the news spread too fast.” Jason clapped his hands and continued in a less spooky tone. “Anyway, that’s the story as I know it.”
“Do you know where she’s buried?”
“No idea. Wherever it is, I imagine it’s more than six feet under by now.”
Jason left, and Gabriel stared at the far corner of the graveyard. Enlightenment or not, he didn’t feel like visiting the grave anymore.
“Ida! I brought new books!” Gabriel put them on the coffee table, waited for the response, and, when none came, sat in front of his laptop, ears still perked. Ida must be haunting one thing or another; nothing in the living room, though. It was dead silent, without any humming that usually came from an Ida-haunted object. He tried to get back to work, but a minute in, he found himself staring at the empty starting page of a web search, mind going off on tangents that had nothing to do with the report for Jacobsky.
Would Ida really have killed herself? He could understand why she’d try to cover it up. Maybe she was ashamed, maybe she regretted it. Maybethat was why she tried so hard to pass to the other side. She wanted to finish the job. But at the same time, it didn’t feel like her. The woman he knew—bright, funny, chatty—didn’t seem like someone who’d fling herself out of the window.
