Nothing like the distorted, screaming blur in the apartment bedroom that might have been a woman.
“I don’t mind,” Kostic said.
“What?”
“You said you had questions, if I don’t mind. Well, I don’t mind. I’m three spaces away from a bingo in any direction, and plenty of folks around me are down to one. I doubt I’d win…and even if I did, the prize is a back-scratcher. I’ve already got two, and I like ’em just fine. There’s only so many back-scratchers a guy needs.”
An orange-haired woman appeared beside him, not quite on the empty chair. She looked up from a nonexistent bingo card as if someone had startled her, then keeled over—and disappeared.
Kostic followed my gaze, then looked back at me, puzzled. Jacob and Evelyn tried to look nonchalant.
“Right,” I said. “Can we step into the hall so as not to disturb your neighbors?”
He shrugged. “Fine by me.”
He levered himself up with one hand on the seat back and the other on a cane, the hardcore type with a four-footed base. It took him three tries to launch himself out of his chair, but he managed.
To say I needed to check my stride to let him keep up with me was an understatement. Jacob, Evelyn and I all shuffled along beside him while he tip-tapped his way toward the exit. Why had he planted himself so far away from it? Why hadn’t I considered this before I asked him to speak to me in the hall? Why hadn’t I just interviewed him on the spot?
Well…that question, I could answer. I found the orange-haired repeater phenomenally distracting.
We’d passed the main group of curious bingo sharks and were in the home stretch when an old man staggered in front of me, face-planted, and disappeared. My shoe squeaked against the tile as I backpedaled. “Watch the floor,” Kostic said. “There’s a tile there where they ground down a high spot but it can still catch your toe.”
A few steps later, I stole a glance over my shoulder. The repeater fell again when his foot found the tripping hazard that no longer existed. And while he was somewhat transparent, he was also so distinct I could describe him right down to the dentures.
There was a small lounge outside the cafeteria for the residents. Against the far wall was a table with a half-done jigsaw puzzle with a picture of a windmill, at least according to the box. Whoever had started it had put together the perimeter and a blob of purple flowers in the foreground, but the hard parts were still up for grabs. I nearly sat…but then a faint flicker in the chair resolved itself into a thin woman with precisely styled gray hair. She was making a choking-gesture.
I opted to remain standing. “We’re just checking out some complaints about your old apartment on George Street. Did you ever have any problems there?”
“Water pressure wasn’t great. And the pigeons were always crapping on my car. But it was no worse than anywhere else. Although…there was a winter when the heat went out in the middle of the night. Lemme tell you, that was really something, waking up to see my own breath!”
The breath-fog was also a phenomenon that happened in the presence of a strong enough ghost. Though given the fact that Kostic had gladly plunked down beside not just one, but tworepeaters? I doubted it was spirit activity clouding his breath. Still, it gave me a good excuse to attempt to dig deeper about the bedroom.
“How was your sleep there in general?” Smooth.
Though if Kostic thought it was a weird question, he didn’t show it. “July and August were no treat, it was stuffy in there, even with a fan going. But other than that….”
He went blithely on about how unremarkable the bedroom was, while I tried not to be too obvious about the woman at the puzzle. If she was a full-fledged ghost, I couldn’t just leave her choking like that. But she wasn’t making eye contact with me. And eventually, I detected a rhythm to her flailing that ended with a subtly flickering reset, and I determined she wasn’t suffering.
Kostic was the perfect witness. Chatty, amiable, and eager to help. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a psychic neuron in his brain. When I’d run out of plausible things to ask, Jacob took pity and intervened. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about the tenant who moved in after you left, would you?”
“Well, now that you mention it…”
The rest of us all leaned in eagerly.
“…he did play his TV awfully loud.” Damn it. I berated myself for getting my hopes up as Kostic launched into a story about visiting his downstairs neighbor, Murray, a few months back, wherein he was bothered by the very same TV we’d all heard there on day one.
We thanked him for his time and I left him with my card in case he thought of anything more, though it was clear enoughto me that either he predated the ghost in the bedroom…or he simply lacked any ability whatsoever to perceive her.
On our way back to the car, I spotted not just one, but two more repeaters. One was slumped in a phantom wheelchair, and another one fell down the two steps leading to the sidewalk.
Jacob and Evelyn both flinched every time I did. Jacob knew the score by now, but I figured Evelyn deserved an explanation. “They’re not ghosts,” I said quietly. “Not in the traditional sense of the word. The moment of death can make a mark, and when it’s violent or startling or just plain weird enough, I can sense it.”
She nodded, gears turning.
“It’s just that one moment, over and over, like a film loop. I call ’em repeaters.”
Evelyn looked worried.
