“Bingo!” She clapped her hands. “We have a winner.”
I rubbed my temples. A stress headache was quickly blooming on either side of my eyes.
“Why?” was all I could muster. “Why are you taking on a different appearance to play someone you aren’t?”
“Oh, that.” The spirit’s expression fell. “I sort of inherited this role. Became the banshee after the last one talked me into it. Said she wanted to go somewhere really light.”
“The light,” I corrected. “It’s where you cross over into the afterlife.”
She waved my correction away. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard of it. Anyway, the locals like the banshee thing so much I took over the role.” Her eyes widened with glee. “And once a year, plus any other days that interest me, I get to scare folks.” She shook her fisted hands with glee. “Oh, it’s so much fun.”
My head wrapped around this nugget of information. This ghost wasn’t the banshee; she was simply keeping the myth alive. Still, that didn’t change the fact of why I was here.
“Listen, I know you don’t know me, but I need your help.”
The spirit perked up. She smiled widely, tucked her hands under her chin and pretended to rest them on a flat surface. “Yes? What can I do for you?”
“There was a murder here. You appeared just after the killing. I’m wondering if you saw something, anything that can help us find the guilty party.”
The spirit tapped her cheek. “Now. Let me think. A murder, you say?”
“Yes.”
“Hmmm. Of an older woman?”
“Right.” My heart rate ticked up. We were on the right path.
“And I believe,” the spirit said dramatically, “that there may have been some strangulation involved?”
I nearly clapped with excitement. “Yes! That’s what happened. Did you see it? Can you tell me who the murderer was?”
The spirit rubbed her chin. “Let me see, I might be able to help.”
“Great.” My heart was near to bursting with joy. “Tell me. Who did it?”
The spirit smoothed her short hair. “I can help. But for a price.”
I licked my lips. So this is what it would come down to. Great. A spirit in trouble. An exchange of information for something else.
What choice did I have? I needed to know who framed Ruth.
I nodded. “Fine.” Glee shone in the ghost’s eyes. “Name your price.”
EIGHT
“First of all,” the spirit said, “my name is Francine Spivey. As I said, I’m not the original banshee but took the job from the last girl.”
“Name’s Blissful Breneaux,” I said.
“How do you do?” Francine extended her hand. I took it. Her ghostly skin felt like cold fog against mine. I did my best to hide the shiver that raced down my spine.
“I’m very well, thank you. And yourself?”
“Oh Blissful,” she moaned, “I’m not well at all. This old bridge is great, but I want more.”
“Is this where I come in?”
A spark lit in her eyes. “Well yes, it is,” she said in a gravelly voice. “You see, there’s a group of spirits I’d like to join in the cemetery.”
