He flashed me a grin. “Hey, don’t tempt me. I almost went home to grab my guitar but then I remembered I’m invisible to normal people. I’d be on Youtube by morning.”
I nearly choked on the next mouthful of coffee from laughter. “The Mysterious Floating Guitar of Albany, New York. Maybe it’d make it all the way to CNN.”
We shared another bout of giggles that eventually descended into comfortable silence. Wait, comfortable? Ah, hell. I must be losing my marbles.
Michael seemed to notice this so he glanced around the kitchen, searching for dishes.
“Why don’t you get dressed and I’ll scrounge up some food?”
I shook my head. “Keep it up and I won’t solve your murder just so you can be my butler.”
He chuckled. “That’s pretty cruel. You couldn’t even pay me if you did that.”
I paused. “Good point. You’d be my slave. Somehow, I like that idea even better.”
Michael rolled his eyes. “Go get dressed, woman.”
Smirking, I took another deep sip of the coffee and returned to my room. No casual clothes today. I wasn’t going into the actual funeral, but I would be near the church. No sense in making the mourners worry about a woman showing up who no one knew, so it wouldn’t hurt to blend in. That meant a black button up shirt, skirt, and flats. I’d wear heels, but I might be doing a lot of walking today.
I took a quick shower and got dressed, pinning up my hair in somewhat of a bun. Many women wore full makeup—lipstick, blush, foundation, mascara, the works—but I honestly hadn’t learned how to put it on properly on account of who raised me. On my worst days, I wore foundation and eyeliner and that was it. Same for this instance.
Michael let out a low wolf whistle when I walked into the kitchen, which was pretty much the reaction I’d expected. “Don’t you clean up nice.”
“Thank you,” I replied with a flat tone, swiping a reheated slice of bacon and toast from a plate. As I munched, I plopped down in front of my laptop and opened it. Needed directions to the funeral. The lack of car would be a problem, but I had enough money to spring for a cab.
“What exactly is gonna happen with the ghost girl?” Michael asked, hovering over my shoulder as I typed.
“When a spirit sees the person or thing that caused them to stay behind, they’ll speak to it, and that’s what allows their final wish to be fulfilled. Afterwards, they just disappear into the next world and Gabriel comes to write their name in the Book of Penance.”
“Book of Penance?”
I pointed to the top of the fridge. Michael walked over and picked it up, flipping through to read the names written in black ink.
“Wow. You’ve helped this many in two years?”
“Don’t sound so impressed. I’ve still got to solve your case by midnight on Monday or I’m going to Hell, literally.”
He fell silent and then asked. “Do you always do that?”
I glanced at him, confused. “Do what?”
“Self-deprecate to push people away.” The bluntness of the comment rendered me speechless.
“Yes,” I murmured after a while. “I don’t always do it on purpose. It’s a bad habit I developed from being on my own for so long. Any other personal flaws you’d like to point out?”
“No. I figured we’d work on them one by one.”
I flipped open my notepad and began scribbling down directions to distract myself. “So what? Are you my therapist now?”
He sighed. “If only. I’d get so much cash working on your ruptured psyche.”
I arched an eyebrow at him. “Ruptured psyche? Only a musician could come up with something so poetic instead of just saying I’m effed up in the head.”
Michael shrugged. “It’s a gift.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” I closed the notepad and drained the remainder of my coffee and scarfed down the bacon and toast.
“Let’s go.”
Ghosts are tricky bastards. They’re intangible but they don’t float through everything. I ended up getting Linda into the cab by instructing her to just hover above the seat or she’d sink right through it. Adult ghosts had better grasps on the concept of not going through everything. It was much harder to teach young ones. Needless to say, the cab driver had thought I was cuckoo for Coco Puffs for whispering incessantly to thin air. Michael had a fine time laughing at my plight. Jerk.
The good news was that we didn’t have to travel for too long. The church where the funeral was held was about fifteen minutes from where I lived. I groaned when I looked at the meter in the cab, but I’d live. I told our driver to sit tight for about ten minutes and ushered the two dead people out of the back.