Strange Neighbors (18 page)

   Morgaine was training Gwyneth on the psychic hotline and hoped to train herself to act as a medium. That was the deal. She'd help Chad, and he'd help her. He hoped they'd be able to pull it off. It was one thing to open your mind and listen to a spirit who's trying to communicate with you. It's quite another level of difficulty to open your mouth and let them use your vocal cords. He wasn't sure this psychic thing was really a good gig for them.

   What's worse is sometimes you have to summon the spirits, and God knows where they are. I mean, I'm hanging around my old apartment because I don't know where else to go. Outdoors is a really bad idea on windy days and if you think rain or snow feels lousy hitting you on your skin, imagine what it feels like passing right through you. Brrrr… "Oh, good, we're here."

   Morgaine raised her fist to knock and hesitated.

   "Come on, my witchy friend. You can do this."

   She heaved a sigh, but before she could bring her

knuckles down on the door, it opened. Dottie stood there as if she had been looking out the peephole the minute they arrived. She probably had.

   "Morgaine! What brings you downstairs?"

   She fidgeted and looked uncomfortable. "I… um. I need to get in touch with Jason."

   "What do you need Jason for?"

   "Tell her to mind her own business. Tell her to go jump in the river. Tell her to—"

   "I need to ask him about the investigation."

   Dottie's eyes lit up. "Oh, yes. The private detective… We must get that ghost out of our building."

   Morgaine waited, but Dottie didn't appear to want to share any more information. Either that or she didn't have any.

   "Would you help me speak to Jason about it, please?"

   "Oh, you don't need to do that. I know Jason found someone very good and hired him."

   Morgaine sighed again. "Look, Chad is badgering me to give him some kind of news or an update about what's going on."

   "Badgering you? Since when have I badgered?"

   Morgaine looked to her left side and said, "Yes, you've badgered me, Chad. You've been a royal pain in the ass about it, so don't sound so surprised."

   Dottie stared at her and raised one eyebrow. "You're arguing with the ghost right now? He's here with you?"

   "Yeah, sorry about that. He's driving me nuts."

   "Oh, well we can't have that, can we? Come in, dear. Jason's not home."

   "I wondered why I hadn't seen him. So why didn't she say that in the first place? And what does she expect to gain by inviting you in if she doesn't know anything, and—" Morgaine looked at the ceiling and said, "Shut up, Chad." Then she accepted Dottie's invitation, followed her inside, and sat on the flowered slip-covered couch.

   Dottie glanced at the ceiling nervously. "I don't think I want him in my home. You have to invite them in, don't you?"

   "That's vampires. Ghosts can go wherever they damn well please. What a moron."

   Morgaine shook her head. "If I could keep him out, I would, believe me. Unfortunately, he'll just pull some nasty stunt to get my attention if I try to ignore him."

   "Oh, dear," Dottie muttered. "Well, maybe I can call Jason and find out the private detective's name and number. I'm sure we can get you some kind of information if we try."

   She looked at the ceiling and raised her voice. "I'm just going for the phone book, Chad." She inched over to the roll-top desk as if the unseen presence had a gun trained on her.

   "This could be fun, but as long as she's cooperating, I'll leave her alone and let her do her thing. I'd almost rather she'd stop and be her rude self again. Then I could blow a cool breeze down her neck and frighten her out of her wits. Now that would be enjoyable."

   She flipped through a few pages of a private phone book with a black leather cover. "Okay, this is his mother's number. I'm sure he's staying with her while his father's in the hospital."

   "Oh? What happened to his father?" Morgaine asked.

   "Heart attack." She looked at the ceiling again. "So you be nice to him when he gets home. Apparently it's

been quite an ordeal."

"Yeah, yeah. Get on with it, pokey."

   She dialed ten numbers and waited. And waited. They all waited. Finally her eyes lit up and she said, "Hi, Jason. You're just the one I wanted to speak with. How's your father?"

   "Who the fuck cares… I want to know who shot me. Can you hurry it up, please?"

   Morgaine frowned. Fortunately her eyes focused in the opposite direction, so she might as well have been frowning at the toaster.

   "Oh, good. I'm glad to hear that," Dottie said. "Listen, dear… I'm sitting here with Morgaine, the girl from 3B who can hear our ghost. And, well… apparently the ghost is here too."

   "Chad. My name is Chad. Or Charles. Or Mr. Washington. Look, just because they took away my body doesn't mean you can just forget my name. I'm an entity with an identity. Hey, I like that. Tell her that, Morgaine!"

   Morgaine shook her head.

   "Oh, I'm all right, but the ghost is pestering Morgaine to find out what's going on with the investigation. I was hoping you could tell us something."

   Dottie grabbed a pen and paper. "Yes, I'm ready. Okay… Joe Murphy. 555-4329." She appeared exceedingly pleased. "Thank you, Jason. I'm sure that will help to satisfy our spirit visitor. So, when are you coming home?"

   "Hey, Morgaine… maybe you can ask her to invite the detective over and you can practice your medium lessons. That way I can give the detective some leads

and ask him questions directly."

   Morgaine nodded toward Dottie as if to tell Chad to wait for her to get off the phone. Damn manners.

   She continued blathering on to give her love to all the other family members while Chad yawned and drummed his virtual fingers on the desktop. He was just about to blast her with a gust of cold breath when she finally, finally hung up.

   "I'm sorry to make you wait, dear," she said to Morgaine. "But I think we have what we need." She waved the telephone number as if it were a clue to her own mystery. "I've been dying to talk to him anyway."

   "Ah ha, just as I thought. The woman couldn't resist sticking her nose into it, could she?"

   Morgaine put on her nicest smile and said, "I don't suppose you could invite the detective to come here? Perhaps that way, Chad could speak to him through me?"

   "Oh." Dottie straightened, looking somewhat offended. "You're a medium too, I suppose." Then she glanced around the apartment and whispered, "Is he still here?"

   "I think so. I can't see him. I can only hear him, since I'm clairaudient, not clairvoyant. I'm still just learning to be a medium." Morgaine cocked her head. "Chad, are you still here?"

   "Tell her I'm so fucking here that I'll kick her through the ass if she thinks for one minute she's going to take away my right to participate in my own cold case and let her try to manage it."

   Morgaine nodded. "Yes, ma'am. He's here."

   "Okay, I'll call the detective and we'll see what we can arrange that will be convenient for all of us." She paused with the receiver in her hand. "I don't suppose he has any appointments I should work around, does he?" She laughed.

   "That does it." Chad blew a big gust of cold air right in Dottie's face and she shivered, casting her eyes nervously around the room. "Finally, an appropriate expression of fear. It's about time! I was ready to sing my rendition of R-E-S-P-E-C-T."

MERRY COULDN'T BELIEVE HOW MUCH SHE MISSED Jason. Had they only been together for a few weeks? It didn't seem possible, although she had to admit that certain fine details of his face were fuzzy in her memory.

   When she opened her door and threw her arms around him, every nuance came rushing back. His subtle scent, how his stubble softly scratched her cheek, his dimples when he smiled. She wanted to drink in his essence and etch every single detail into her memory. The straightness of his nose, except for the slight bump from when it had been broken, the clarity of his blue eyes…

   "God, I missed you," he whispered into her hair. "You were all I could talk about while I was home. My family really wants to meet you."

   "I missed you too!" How and when did his presence disarm her so completely? She'd always felt a strong pull, but now the yearning seemed overwhelming. If she had been a spy and he James Bond, she'd hand over the art, cash, and/or passwords. Anything he asked for. All she wanted was to be in his arms.

   And to her relief and delight, the feeling seemed mutual. He hugged her close against his hard chest as if he needed to fit her against him so tight a gust of wind couldn't come between them.

   "I'm sorry. I should have asked about your father before getting so carried away."

   "He's going to be fine. And now that I'm here, so am I."

   Merry raised her eyebrows. "Did anything happen to make you feel otherwise?"

   "No, not really. Well, nothing specific. You know what it's like to go home after you've been away for quite a while and your life is…"

   He trailed off. She must have been wearing a puzzled look because, no, she didn't know what it was like. She had barely flown the nest. Her little wings hadn't carried her far away for very long.

   "Well, you know what they say. You can never go home again…"

   "Why? What happened to make you feel that way?"

   "Nothing traumatic, like having my posters of Britney Spears ripped down and thrown out or anything…"

   He poked her with his elbow. It took a moment, but she finally identified his remark as a joke and tried to laugh. Not very convincingly, though.

   "I'm sorry. I was trying to be funny. Actually, my old bedroom is now my mother's quilting room. She left a daybed in there for guests, but the décor is drastically different.

   "No, that's not what I'm talking about at all. It's just that—things change while you're gone. You think everything is right where you left it and then you're shocked that the movie theatre moved from downtown to a multiplex on the outskirts and the wild piece of land you thought of as 'your favorite view' gets developed into a condominium community. I guess you'll know what I mean in a few years."

   Merry's shoulders slumped. Just because she didn't move out of her father's house as soon as she turned eighteen didn't mean she was… Damn, she couldn't even think of a word for it. Unworldly, that was it. She had stayed home in Schooner, Rhode Island, taking care of her family. She'd seen the theatre close and reopen in a bigger and better venue, but it hadn't fazed her at all. And the available land had been developed too. She simply didn't feel nostalgic or care that much. Or maybe nostalgia hadn't had a chance to set in.

   It was time to let go of her defensiveness. She tamped down her feelings as well as her issues. They were hers alone and didn't need to become a burden to Jason. He was in a different place and to recognize it would be the wise thing to do.

   "I understand," she said.

   He swept her into his arms and kissed her hair. "You do? Because I wanted you with me so badly. I wanted to show you all my old haunts, and I wanted to share you with my family to show them the part of my life that's better now than they remembered. I really want to take you home with me for Christmas and already told them to expect you."

   Merry tensed.

   "Uh-oh." He slapped his forehead. "I know you're close to your family. The words came out before I had a chance to think them through. But seriously, think about it. All I could talk about was you. My family wants to know you. It's only natural."

   Silence seemed to dare either of them to speak. At last, he simply picked her up off the floor and left her apartment, yanking the door closed with a slam. Too stunned to speak, Merry wrapped her legs around his waist and held onto his neck as he carried her into the elevator.

   "Now, I need to get one thing straight between us, Miss MacKenzie…"

   "What?" she asked, breathless.

   "Do you love me?" He gazed into her eyes. She noted an expectant lift of his eyebrows and something else. Something she'd never imagine a man like Jason Falco would show. Was it fear? Doubt? Did her answer matter enough to make him insecure?

   She pulled him to her tighter and held him as close as she could without smothering him. A confession of love followed by CPR wasn't very romantic.

   At last she whispered furiously, "Jason, I love you so much, I can't see straight."

   Somehow, the two of them wound up on the elevator's new carpet, feverishly kissing, stroking, sucking, and nipping. Reality disappeared. The only thing that existed was this moment, the touch of his skin; the taste of his mouth; how dizzy she felt and yet how grounded and right everything seemed when he held her and she inhaled his scent.

   They lay side by side. His long legs protruded from the elevator. He didn't seem to notice the door trying to close, brushing his blue jeans and opening again. Closing and sliding open. Closing and sliding open.

   Merry climbed on top of him. Glad she had gone braless that morning, she leaned over and rubbed her hardened nipples back and forth across his chest. An unquenchable fire sprang up and she moaned.

   With his abdomen flat against her, his arousal prodded her belly. She scooched lower until seated flush with his hard-on. He didn't know she wasn't wearing panties, but he soon would. She ground down in circles on top of his erection.