Jeffrey continued. “She had suggested that there were living who lie about us for their gain. They say we are evil when we are not, and they say we are bad when we are good. Finally I have proof!”
More gasps.
My stomach tightened. I didn’t know what his endgame was, but it didn’t sound good.
Jeffrey pulled the pictures from a folder. “See how these photographs were in fact doctored to look like those of us in the spirit world were a part of them? Then this phony ‘investigator,’ if I can call her that, sold these images and her stories, lying about us.”
The photos crunched as he tightened his ghostly grip on them. “The living manipulate how we are seen. We want the same as them, to live in peace, yet they have a town that profits from our existence. Then they publish pictures that are supposed to be of ghosts but aren’t. It’s nothing but smoke and mirrors. I don’t know about the rest of y’all, but I’m sick and tired of being misrepresented.”
I groaned. These spirits were worse than the ones haunting the cemetery.
Right as that thought sprang into my head, I caught sight of Granny Mildred. Well of course she was here. Heck, she’d probably rounded up half the spirits in the audience herself.
What was wrong with these ghosts?
In that moment I realized that I might not want to be misrepresented. Maybe they had a point. Perhaps I was the foolish one, thinking too much from my own point of view and not taking the time to really hear what the spirits wanted.
Alice pressed her ear toward the crowd.
“What’re you doing?” Ruth hissed.
“I can’t hear,” Alice shot back. “I want to know what they’re saying.”
At that moment Alice lost her footing. The air rushed from her lungs and came out in a “Whoo!”
Her legs pinwheeled, and Alice did a half cartwheel, landing on her rump and sliding down a slope of broken gravel and dirt. She came to a stop at the foot of the stage.
In the melee, her painted sheet had hiked up her back to her shoulders. Her socked and sandaled feet poked out from beneath the sheet’s hem.
“We have intruders.” Jeffrey stalked forward. His long, spindly hand grabbed the sheet and yanked it off Alice’s head.
“The living aren’t allowed here,” he commanded.
Alice rose, dusted off her knees. “Then I guess you’re lucky.”
Jeffrey leaned forward so far I thought he might topple over. “Why’s that?”
Alice threw back her shoulders. “Because I’m not the living. I’m the just-dead.”
EIGHTEEN
Jeffrey paused long enough to let me know he was considering what Alice had said.
Ruth whispered at me, “You think they’ll let her go?”
“Not likely,” Francine mumbled.
I shot Francine a hard look. “I don’t know,” I directed to Ruth.
Jeffrey opened his mouth, and a sick laugh enveloped the amphitheater. “You thought I would believe that? I’m no fool. You can’t be allowed to leave!”
That was enough. I stormed down the steps. “You won’t harm one living hair on her head.”
The soundless echo of shock seemed to shoot out at me. I stared at Jeffrey. “You will leave her alone.”
“You know too much.”
My gaze asked Alice if she was okay. She nodded feebly. Some bruises and cuts, but she would be okay.
