“Artie’s all you need to know.”
I folded my arms. “Okay, who’s the big bad?”
He shrugged. “No clue. I mean, you met the guy. It’s not like he’s into late-night chats over hot cocoa.”
“Funny. You’re funny.”
Artie shrugged. “I’m only telling you what I know.”
“Which is?”
Artie scowled. Real human emotion swept across his features. Anguish, agony and frustration bloomed. My heart lurched. Whoever this spirit was, he’d tortured the other souls in this house.
That wasn’t cool. Not at all.
“Alls I can say is ever since I died, I’ve been trapped here. I’m not allowed to leave.”
“Have you ever tried?”
He shot me a dark look. “Of course I tried. Did it once. Won’t do it again.”
“Why not? What happened?”
Artie shook his head. “Never mind yourself with my business. All I’m saying is this guy, the one here, he can’t be beat. Don’t even attempt it.”
I leaned on one hip. “Why not?”
“Because that guy there doesn’t make threats.”
“Oh?”
“No.” Artie’s mouth clamped to a thin line. “He don’t. He makes promises.”
I tipped my head to one side. “Okay. What about you? How’d you end up here? How’d you die?”
The ghost faded. “I can’t stay. I’ve said too much.” He glanced at the ceiling. “I’m already in trouble for telling you what I have.”
“Artie, wait!”
But he vanished before I could utter another word. I punched my fist into my hand. “Dang it!”
I was no farther into understanding why I was this ghoul’s target. What did it want from me? And why? It wasn’t like I was going around tromping on its territory. This guy sought me out, lured me to this home and then threatened to hurt the family living here if I didn’t rise to its challenge.
Which was? That the spirit would make me one of the ghosts haunting this place.
Right. Like that was going to happen.
No way. Not in my lifetime.
Which made me think. This wasn’t going to be a simple case of showing this guy the light and watching as he walked blissfully into heaven.
This situation called for much bigger guns than that. Much bigger. Good thing I had some equipment on my side. Equipment that I hadn’t even taken out of the box that Anita Tucker sent.
I had just steppedoutside the house when I spotted one of the Jarvis’s next-door neighbors. She was an old woman, probably in her seventies, and wore a flowered kitchen frock. It was one of those that you zip up the front, sort of like the female version of those Dickie’s jumpers that old men wore.
Anyway, she stood in her front yard, pinning the wash to a line.
I was impressed she hung her laundry, especially since it was still winter and she was hanging it in the front yard as opposed to the back.
