that would make it irresistible to me.
You’d think he’d know me better by now.
“Yeah?” I said. Indifference, not eloquence, was the point here.
He plowed on, choosing not to notice my fantastic display of boredom. “It seems that Lawrence Laurentz did indeeddie just over six months ago, and the attending doctor at the emergency room wrote it up as a cardiac arrhythmia.”
“So there you are,” I said in my best efficient-but-cool businesswoman voice. “Mystery solved. The ghost is delusional.”
Paul nodded, which I hadn’t expected. I retaliated by continuing into the kitchen, walking directly through him, which is a strange but not unpleasant sensation. Paul’s touch is like a warm breeze, Maxie’s more like a cooling paper fan.
“Maybe so,” he said. I pushed the kitchen door open and let it swing through him as he followed me. “But arrhythmia is not an uncommon misdiagnosis in cases of electrocution. Laurentz’s story merits at least a cursory look.”
“So go ahead and look,” I said. It sounded cold even to me.
Paul’s face couldn’t have looked more wounded if I’d actually been able to slap it. “You know I can’t,” he mumbled.
I drew a breath and looked up at him. “I’m sorry, Paul,” I said. “You know I didn’t mean…”
“My problem isn’t the point,” he said, not making eye contact. Having forgotten why I’d come into the kitchen, I sat down at the chair. I felt like there were heavy weights on the top of my head. “ Your problem is the point.”
“My problem?”
Paul hovered down to try and approximate a level eye-to-eye approach. But he can’t really hold still, so I was getting a trifle seasick watching him. “Think about it, Alison. This man is in the same position Maxie and I were when you met us. And he came to you through your mother. Either of those things alone would normally be enough to spur you to action.”
I tried to interrupt, but he went on. “And by working on this case, you might get your father out of what sounds like a potentially unpleasant situation. I can’t imagine that you don’t want to do that.”
Suddenly, my eyes felt a little damp. I looked away from Paul. And when I heard my own voice reply to him, it sounded squeaky and quiet. “Then why didn’t he ask me himself?” I managed. “Why haven’t I ever heard from my dad when he obviously could have spoken to me whenever he wanted? Why doesn’t he want to talk to his own granddaughter? Paul, why ?” I stopped talking because I was afraid of the next sound that would come out of my mouth.
Paul spoke softly and gently. “Maybe this is your way to find out,” he said.
Finding my father: That hadn’t occurred to me. My head snapped up. Paul seemed startled by the sudden movement; his eyes widened a tiny bit and his mouth straightened out.
Before either of us could speak, the kitchen door swung open and Melissa slouched in, dragging her backpack behind her and heading for the refrigerator with the manner of a prisoner being led back out into the quarry to break rocks. “What’d I miss?” she mumbled as she opened the fridge in search of something quick and easy for breakfast.
Paul surveyed my face and it must have told him something; he smiled. “Your mom is going to help me investigate what happened to Mr. Laurentz,” he said.
Melissa’s head turned toward me quickly, and for the first time today, she looked enthusiastic.
“I want to help,” she said.
Seven
“It’s a conspiracy , I tell you!” Lawrence Laurentz turned out to be an imposingly tall, probably artificially dark-haired ghost, hovering over the sofa in my mother’s living room, looking as theatrical as a box of seven-dollar Milk Duds. The man, I’d guess in his seventies, had a flair for overacting that William Shatner himself would envy.
“A conspiracy?” I parroted back. All I’d asked was what Lawrence had done for a living when he was, you know, living.
This meeting had been
You’d think he’d know me better by now.
“Yeah?” I said. Indifference, not eloquence, was the point here.
He plowed on, choosing not to notice my fantastic display of boredom. “It seems that Lawrence Laurentz did indeeddie just over six months ago, and the attending doctor at the emergency room wrote it up as a cardiac arrhythmia.”
“So there you are,” I said in my best efficient-but-cool businesswoman voice. “Mystery solved. The ghost is delusional.”
Paul nodded, which I hadn’t expected. I retaliated by continuing into the kitchen, walking directly through him, which is a strange but not unpleasant sensation. Paul’s touch is like a warm breeze, Maxie’s more like a cooling paper fan.
“Maybe so,” he said. I pushed the kitchen door open and let it swing through him as he followed me. “But arrhythmia is not an uncommon misdiagnosis in cases of electrocution. Laurentz’s story merits at least a cursory look.”
“So go ahead and look,” I said. It sounded cold even to me.
Paul’s face couldn’t have looked more wounded if I’d actually been able to slap it. “You know I can’t,” he mumbled.
I drew a breath and looked up at him. “I’m sorry, Paul,” I said. “You know I didn’t mean…”
“My problem isn’t the point,” he said, not making eye contact. Having forgotten why I’d come into the kitchen, I sat down at the chair. I felt like there were heavy weights on the top of my head. “ Your problem is the point.”
“My problem?”
Paul hovered down to try and approximate a level eye-to-eye approach. But he can’t really hold still, so I was getting a trifle seasick watching him. “Think about it, Alison. This man is in the same position Maxie and I were when you met us. And he came to you through your mother. Either of those things alone would normally be enough to spur you to action.”
I tried to interrupt, but he went on. “And by working on this case, you might get your father out of what sounds like a potentially unpleasant situation. I can’t imagine that you don’t want to do that.”
Suddenly, my eyes felt a little damp. I looked away from Paul. And when I heard my own voice reply to him, it sounded squeaky and quiet. “Then why didn’t he ask me himself?” I managed. “Why haven’t I ever heard from my dad when he obviously could have spoken to me whenever he wanted? Why doesn’t he want to talk to his own granddaughter? Paul, why ?” I stopped talking because I was afraid of the next sound that would come out of my mouth.
Paul spoke softly and gently. “Maybe this is your way to find out,” he said.
Finding my father: That hadn’t occurred to me. My head snapped up. Paul seemed startled by the sudden movement; his eyes widened a tiny bit and his mouth straightened out.
Before either of us could speak, the kitchen door swung open and Melissa slouched in, dragging her backpack behind her and heading for the refrigerator with the manner of a prisoner being led back out into the quarry to break rocks. “What’d I miss?” she mumbled as she opened the fridge in search of something quick and easy for breakfast.
Paul surveyed my face and it must have told him something; he smiled. “Your mom is going to help me investigate what happened to Mr. Laurentz,” he said.
Melissa’s head turned toward me quickly, and for the first time today, she looked enthusiastic.
“I want to help,” she said.
Seven
“It’s a conspiracy , I tell you!” Lawrence Laurentz turned out to be an imposingly tall, probably artificially dark-haired ghost, hovering over the sofa in my mother’s living room, looking as theatrical as a box of seven-dollar Milk Duds. The man, I’d guess in his seventies, had a flair for overacting that William Shatner himself would envy.
“A conspiracy?” I parroted back. All I’d asked was what Lawrence had done for a living when he was, you know, living.
This meeting had been
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