Elizabeth Basque - Medium Mysteries 01 - Echo Park (7 page)

I spent the morning getting my place back to normal. I opened all of the windows, and turned on the ceiling fans. I emptied ashtrays of all cigars, and even vacuumed.

I did feel a little better. At least my home was my own again. There was, however the slight lingering odor of vinegar I’d smelled the night before. I couldn’t trace it. Maybe it was from the generators or something. What did I know?

When it cooled that afternoon, I took my laptop—and another martini—out to the patio. I couldn’t get that Michael kid out of my mind. I didn’t know when he’d died, so I searched backward in time, chronologically, using the same websites I had used to research Carla and her mom.

Turned out I didn’t have to look too long. He’d died a couple of months ago. I drew a deep breath and held it, re-reading the obits from the very same day that Carla and her mother had died.

I hated that my brain was saturated with liquor. It slowed my thinking sometimes. I was just putting two and two together when Mack showed up, making his presence known inside.

I flew inside my apartment like the angry old goose that I was.

“
Why didn’t you tell me who Michael really was?” I demanded.

“
Nice bash last night,” he commented, hovering over the chair he’d overturned again. “Actually, I was impressed. As were my friends.”

“
I asked you a question,” I spat. “Why did you bring him here? And why didn’t you tell me who he was?”

“
And you, the savvy psychic,” he chuckled. I was drunk, and he knew it. “I thought you would have figured it out on your own.” He inspected his nails while I righted the chair.
Again
. “And look now, you did figure it out. So, what’s the problem, deah?”

“
I trusted you. You know I would never knowingly let a
murderer
inside my home, living
or
dead.”

“
I know nothing of the sort,” he replied lightly. “You’ve certainly done it before.”

I gasped, thinking of only person Mack could be referring to. “That is none of your business! And it’s old history. Have the ghosts been gossiping about me?”

“Hush, Pauline. Like you said, you can’t have a private thought with me around.” Mack followed me into the kitchen.

It was time to lay off the hard stuff, just for a while. I needed to think. I downed a large glass of water and got myself a beer. “You do understand that I’m trying to figure out how to help Carla.”

“Certainly.”

I was frustrated now, and fuming mad at Mack, especially since he knew stuff about me that I never wanted him to know. Ever. Stuff about me and…
James
. Obviously, he was privy to my most painful and personal thoughts.

He, however, was obviously enjoying my frustration. I thought about locking myself in the bathroom to get away from him, but I was sick of looking at the tiny octagonal floor tiles while I was drunk. My thoughts were a little foggy, and I had to figure out what to do.

“You know what to do,” Mack said, quietly now, his face more serious.

Sweat was beading on my forehead now, and my neck felt hot.
It’s just a hot flash,
I lied to myself, trying to dismiss my discomfort.

I sat at my small dinette table and glared at the ghost, one of the few beings I could call a friend. Why hadn’t he told me about Michael?

“I can’t do
everything
for you,” he said.

Oh, his mind reading irritated me. “What the hell do you ever do for me, except make unreasonable demands and knock over furniture? You secretly pry into my private pain, Mack! And you haunt me until I think I’m going insane!”

This did hit home for him, I could tell. His eyes were cold as they met mine. “One,” he stated, “the pahty wasn’t an unreasonable request. You have to admit, even
you
had a good time. If you can even remember any of it, yah bazo.”

I was about to give some smart retort, but he held up a shimmering hand and continued. “Two, it’s what ghosts do, luv. How else am I going to get your attention when you’re out on that insufferable patio of yours with that mockingbird copying every other bird tune he has ever heard? And three,” his eyes flashed a little now, “I’m not haunting you, and I’m not the cause of yuh quest for sanity. You have it all, Pauline, and you don’t even know it. You take the gifts that Gahd gave you and yah piss them away. Bazo!”

With that, he knocked over my beer, drifted through the wall and was gone.

Later, after I cleaned up the spilled beer and put away my carpet shampooer, I was on my second glass of iced coffee and pacing back and forth in an attempt to sober up. I could lay off the alcohol for a while; I had to. I had to have a clear mind. As much as Mack had pissed me off, he knew me to the core and he wasn’t afraid to speak his mind. We were that close.
Damn.

I picked up my cell phone, then set it back on the table. I was just trying to get the words right. “Screw it,” I finally said to myself, and grabbed the phone.

“Hello?” came the happy-go-lucky voice on the other end.

“
Julie? It’s me, Pauline,” I tried to sound upbeat and business-like.

“
Hi! Pauline! Carla, it’s Pauline,” she called out to the ghost in her home. “How are you? We’re having a wonderful time…”

I listened politely, patiently, to Julie’s prattle about how she and Carla were spending a lot of time together, having fun, learning how to communicate, how Julie’s psychic skills were at an unrivaled high.

“That’s great,” I said when she finally stopped to take a breath. “Listen, dear, there’s something I have to tell you.”

“
What?” Her voice was intent and curious.

I hated to rain on her parade. I was looking at my reflection in the hallway mirror, particularly at my bloodshot eyes and reddened face, devoid of makeup that day. I took a deep breath and said, “I’ve found Carla’s killer.”

Chapter Eleven

There was silence on her end of the phone.

“
Julie? Are you there?”

“
…Yes, I’m here.” Julie’s voice had changed from to joyous to anxious. “You found him. Carla is listening. I can’t understand what she’s trying to tell me.”

“
It’s all right, everything will be all right,” I soothed. Finding Carla’s killer understandably triggered strong emotions in both of them. “Look, I just thought you would want to know. You knew I was looking for him.”

“
Yes, I knew,” Julie said. “But this means…what does it mean? He’s still around?”

“
Actually, he’s dead, too.” I was a little fuzzy still. I forgot to explain that to her. “He’s a ghost, Julie. I met his spirit form last night.”

“
But how?” Julie asked.

As best I could, I explained about Mack’s poker party, and the killer’s presence there. I told her about my research and my conversation with Mack. At least part of the conversation. Not the part where Mack had told me I was pissing my life away.

Julie listened, then said, “I think Carla wants to come over. I felt her touching my hand, and the front door just opened a little.”

I thought fast. “I, uh, have a meeting tonight,” I said. I’d learned early on that almost
anything
could be construed as a meeting. That night, I had a serious and important meeting with my bed and my down pillows. “How about tomorrow morning? This could be…emotional for both you and Carla. And I want to think about a couple of things before I see you two.”

“
Of course.” Julie sounded relieved.

“
See you about ten, then?”

“
Sure, ten works. Oh, and Pauline?”

“
Yes?”

“
Thank you. I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. I appreciate everything you’re doing.”

If that were true, then why did I feel so horrible? But I tried not to show it. “Sure thing, hon. Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”

It’s wonderful what a good night’s sleep can do for a living human being. I awoke rested and refreshed, and with the hope that a new day was always supposed to bring. Some days, I didn’t feel that hope, but that morning, I did.

Cigarette, coffee without booze in it, and a shower. Now, I was applying makeup, and thinking about how to best guide today’s session with Julie, Carla and Michael. As a Medium, I oftentimes played the role of mediat
or
, too. Sometimes, besides relaying information, I had to run a little interference between the living and the dead. I had the feeling that today would be one of those days.

Julie and Carla arrived promptly at ten. When I let them in, Carla was actually calmer than Julie, but the girl did scout out the place for any signs of Michael’s presence.

“He’s not here,” I told Carla, “not yet.”

“
Thank God,” Julie breathed. “I’m not sure I can do this, Pauline. I mean, are we going to have a séance or something? I’ve never done that before.”

“
Sure you have,” I replied, bringing her a cup of coffee. “Séances are pretty easy. It will be like when we contacted Carla.”

“
Oh,” she said, a little doubtfully. “But your other ghost friend, Mack, brought her. Right?”

“
Well, that’s true.” I was wondering myself where the old fart was. “But that doesn’t happen all the time. I can usually summon spirits by myself. And, I think Carla’s presence could help.” I didn’t mention that there was a possibility that Carla’s presence might be a hindrance, too. From the short time I’d connected with Michael, he seemed standoffish, and I’d read a strong emotion of guilt within him. He might not want to face the girl. But I kept quiet about my doubts.

Carla hovered about an inch above the couch, in a sitting position, next to Julie. “How did he die? What’s his name?” Carla fired more questions as I drew the heavy drapes closed and turned off the lights.

“His name is Michael,” I answered. “Does that ring a bell, dear?”

Carla bit her nonexistent fingernails. “No.”

“I don’t know how he died,” I continued. “I can’t see any signs of bloodshed, but he looked like he was pretty sick.” I didn’t want to make Julie any more uneasy than she already was. Julie clearly wasn’t looking forward to this.

I sat across from them, now pushing the thought of old Captain Morgan out of my mind. I could wait for my next drink. For
them
, I could wait.

I turned on the TV, muted it like I had before, and set the remote on the coffee table. Then I lit a couple of aromatherapy candles. “Just to set the mood,” I told Julie with a wink. To Carla, I added, “If you really want to, you can draw some energy. But I was thinking we’d save that for our intended guest. Does that make sense?”

Carla nodded.

I looked around the room. A “séance,” as Julie called it—it was really no more than an unveiling of two worlds, a path opened between them—didn’t require much effort on my part. I just didn’t know why I didn’t want to get started.

“What’s that smell?” Julie asked out of the blue. “Sorry, it just kind of smells like…”

I turned to her now. So, I wasn’t crazy after all. “Smells like vinegar?” I wrinkled my nose. “I’m not sure. It was noticeable last night, even over the cigar smoke.”

Carla’s demeanor changed at this. She kept silent, but I had the feeling she understood something I didn’t. She had an uncanny ability to stop me from reading her thoughts.

“
Well, are you ready?” I asked Julie and Carla. Carla gave a curt nod, still chewing on her nails.

“
Wait,” Julie pleaded. “What’s going to happen? I mean, I’m pretty sure this Michael ghost isn’t going to be as sweet as Carla. I’m a little nervous.”

“
I’m just going to request his presence,” I explained, with more patience than I felt. “I can’t foresee what exactly will happen, but usually, I translate, if you will, for the spirit. Or for you. Most likely, you’ll find you have important information to exchange.”

“
But, I don’t know what I want to say,” Julie whined. I guessed this wasn’t altogether true.

I patted her hand, though. “I’m sure you’ll find the words.”

“I can help,” Carla offered.

“
Carla wants to help, too. Don’t worry,” I smiled and tried to appear reassuring. “Everything is going to be just fine.”

I hoped it all wouldn’t blow up in my face.

Chapter Twelve

“Now, just try to clear your mind,” I instructed Julie. I took her hands in mine across the coffee table, steering clear of the lit candles. “Just put all your thoughts on an imaginary shelf.”

Julie nodded, but Carla moved closer to her. “Carla, why don’t you set one hand over Julie’s and one over mine? That way you can be a stronger force in summoning Michael.” The girl did so, but now, she was as jumpy as Julie.