Alice Kimberley - The Ghost and the Femme Fatale

"Yeah, baby, you changed clothes and handbags, too. Only you forgot about yours truly."

"The nickel!"

"You left without my lucky buffalo in your purse, which left me stuck watching reruns of Jack Shield episodes on the Intrigue Channel all by my lonesome."

"I'm sorry, Jack! I remember now. When I got to the block party, I realized you weren't with me. I was going to go back home and get your old nickel, but then I saw Harmony and didn't want to miss my chance to surveil her earlobes."

Jack sighed. "All right, baby, so you flew solo. Tell me what I missed."

"Well, Harmony wasn't wearing any earrings but that actually seemed suspicious to me because-" I paused, feeling Jack's hand reaching over to sweep hair away from the nape of my neck. "Jack?" I tensed. "What are you-"

His fingers began to message my tight muscles.

"Oh, wow…" I rolled my head around. "That actually feels good… "

"Of course it does, baby. Now tell me why it was so suspicious that Harmony wasn't sporting earrings? I don't know much about the jewelry-wearing habits of dames. Enlighten me."

"Okay, well…" I shifted on the couch to get more comfortable. "Harmony's ears are pierced. And most women with pierced ears wear earrings. So it seemed awfully suspicious that she wasn't wearing any. And I thought maybe she realized that she'd lost one earring and simply taken the second one out before going to the party."

"So what did you do?"

"I noticed Barry Yello at the party-"

"Barry's the big guy?"

"Yes. He was the guy with the blond ponytail and the Hawaiian shirt, the one who introduced Dr. Lilly the first night of the Film Festival. Barry's also the Webmaster of FylmGeek.com, and…Oh, wait. I should explain what dot com means-"

"Don't bother," Jack said. "Between you and your aunt working on that computer every day, I've figured out what the Internet is-"

"An information highway."

"Another set of street corners for pervs and shitbirds to prey on the public."

I sighed. "That too. Anyway, Barry had a digital camera with him, and he was snapping photos all night, presumably to post on his Web site. I figured he would have been paying special attention to the festival's guests. I asked him about Hedda's and Harmony's movements."

Jack's massaging fingers moved from my neck to one shoulder. His other hand joined in, taking care of the other shoulder. "Move back a little, baby," he whispered, "closer to me."

I slid backward on the lumpy couch, making the old springs creak beneath my weight.

"Go on, doll," Jack growled in my ear. "Tell me what Barry said."

I cleared my throat, trying my best to ignore the realness of Jack's hard thigh against my tweed-covered bottom, the faint male smell of undiluted whiskey on his breath when he spoke. I reminded myself that this was all a dream; warned myself not to get carried away. But the truth was, there hadn't been a man in my life for years. Even when I'd been married to Calvin, he hadn't exactly been an attentive, supportive husband. Not that a ghost could be a replacement for a husband, but I had to admit that Jack's spirit was a good companion, and a good friend. And right at this moment, what he was doing to me felt pretty darn good, too.

I knew what some people would say to that. They'd accuse me of wanting to live in a dream world. But then I considered the store I was running-and what I was selling. What were all those books providing to the people who read them?

"Baby? What's wrong? You goin' buggy on me?"

"I was just thinking that I liked being here… with you."

"It's all we've got, sweetheart. Don't overthink it. Dreams are a gift, you know? You should just enjoy them."

I turned around to meet Jack's eyes. "You enjoy them, too, don't you?"

Jack stopped massaging my neck. His hard face smiled. "What do you think?"

I smiled, too. Then I turned around again. "I think you missed a spot."

Jack's hands returned to my shoulders. "So? Back to Barry and your little block party… "

"Right. According to Barry Yello, Hedda had been holding court at a picnic table all evening. Apparently, she never returned to the Finch Inn after the showing of Tight Spot. Just went straight to the party on the Commons. And her granddaughter, Harmony, had been hanging close with her all evening."

"Uh-huh. And what did that tell you?"

I detected contained amusement in Jack's voice, and sure enough when I turned my head, I found the PI smirking. He was obviously entertained by my gumshoeing tale.

"What it told me, Jack, was that if Harmony dropped that earring under the Movie Town stage, and she never went back to her hotel room to drop off its match, then I was likely to find that earring on Harmony herself."

"And did you?"

"No. I did manage to search her handbag though."

Jack's fingers stilled. "You're kidding?"

"Nope. Seymour Tarnish helped. He distracted her and I grabbed her bag, riffled through it, and returned it without her knowing. No earring. And she didn't have any pockets on her skintight dress, but I did find something very interesting inside that purse."

Jack sat up straighter. "Spill."

"A pack of condoms and three bottles of prescription medications from three different doctors."

"Well, well, well." Jack's eyebrows arched. "Keeping party favors and candy in her handbag tells me that she's the type who wants to be ready for anything-if not any man. Just like her grandmother. Guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tart."

"I think the girl's got major problems," I said. "And she's clearly having sex with a boyfriend."

"Or boyfriends, plural-one or more of whom might be willing to help her get rid of her granny, so she can inherit a fortune."

"Or part of one."

"Nice work, baby."

I could see that Jack meant it. The smirk was gone. He seemed genuinely impressed. Without taking his long, strong legs off the coffee table, he leaned forward to reach for his tumbler of whiskey.

"And what about Pierce Armstrong?" he asked.

I frowned. "What about him?"

"Didn't you brace him at the party, too?"

"Unfortunately, he didn't go to the party. I cornered Wendell Pepper, though. He told me Pierce was so exhausted that he asked for a ride back to his house. Pepper took him before returning to the block party."

"I see." Jack took a sip of alcohol then held the glass out for me. "Go on, it won't kill you."

I took the glass, sipped a little. I wasn't a drinker of straight hard liquor, but I was curious what Jack's dream-whiskey would taste like. "Ack!" I coughed. The liquid burned all the way down my throat.

Jack laughed. "It's a cinch, baby. You're even a Square Jane in your sleep."

"But you have to admit," I rasped, finishing my coughing fit. "I'm getting to be a good detective awake."

"Jury's still out on that one, doll. So what about that question I had for Dean Pepper-did you remember to ask it?"

I nodded, handing Jack back his tumbler of firewater. "Hedda's silver evening gown from Wrong Turn. I asked him about it, all right. Lucky for us, Pepper's practically an encyclopedia of trivia about every piece of memorabilia he collects. And do you know what he said about Hedda's old costume?"

"Not unless you tell me."

"He said that he bought it at an auction from a relative of the actress Willow Brody, also known as Wilma Brody. Wilma changed her name when she moved from Queens to Hollywood. It didn't help her career much. She could only ever get bit parts in big pictures, and then she died in 1966."

"Why does that year ring a bell? It's not like I was alive to remember it."

"It's the same year Hedda Geist said some journalist started digging around, trying to piece together the real story about Irving Vreen's death."

"And Willow Brody died that same year? That's awfully coincidental, baby, don't you think?"