She smirked. “My dear, you didn’t see?”
I gripped the top of the chair and squeezed. “No. I didn’t.”
“It was none other than Xavier’s cohort, Slick Williams. That’s who wants to buy my place.”
NINETEEN
It was a nice day, bright and sunny, so I decided to walk the main stretch of town to Ghost Catchers. I passed the candle shop, Wicked Wicks, and stopped. Some useful tidbit of information could be stored in the place.
I pulled the door to and stepped inside to see a woman standing cross armed, staring at the array of delicious smelling candles. The entire store smelled like a crisp apple pie full of cinnamon and nutmeg. I nearly opened my mouth to take a bite of air.
“I don’t believe it. Some stupid ghost is here throwing things at people. What a crock.”
The woman, obviously a tourist from the money belt around her waist, was talking to a group of folks who were dressed exactly like her.
A shop worker wearing thick black glasses and a high ponytail smirked. “Better watch what you say. She doesn’t throw candles, but she likes to toss other things at folks.”
The tourist rolled her eyes. “What’s she going to do, punch me?”
I watched as an older ghost apparated in front of me. No one else saw her. She wore a long skirt and her hair in a bun. A dark expression lined her face. The spirit slid a car air freshener from a hook and threw it at the tourist, hitting her squarely on the rear end.
“Oh! What was that?” she yelped.
The shopkeeper smiled. “Why, I reckon it was the ghost.” She wagged a finger at the woman. “I told you to watch what you said about her.”
The tourists laughed at the woman, who rubbed her rear end. She glowered as she slinked, embarrassed, from the store.
The shopkeeper smirked at me. “Can I help you with anything?”
“No, I was just looking around.” I made eye contact with the spirit.
The shopgirl cocked her head at me. “You’re the woman from the other day at Soul Food and Spirits.” She snapped her fingers. “And from last night at the funeral home.” She placed the back of her hand to her mouth like we were swapping secrets. “Folks say you can talk to ghosts.”
“Folks say a lot of things,” I said. “Not all of them are true.”
She hitched a shoulder. “Anyway, I’m Faith. Let me know if I can help you.”
“Thanks.” But there wasn’t anything she could help me with. What I needed could only be gained from the spirit.
I met gazes with the ghost.
“Get out,” she said.
Never one to be intimidated, I took a step forward.
“I’ll just be in back if you need anything,” Faith said.
As soon as she was gone, I turned to the spirit. “Listen, all I need to know is if you’ve ever heard of a guy named Lucky Strike.”
“Who wants to know?” she said, eyeing me curiously.
“That would be me,” I whispered. “You know him?”
She smirked. It was sort of an evil look, if I have to be honest. Not too much warmth in it. Not any, actually.
“Everyone knows Lucky. But not him as you say.”
“Great. Riddles. Just what I don’t need.”
