“Why?”
“Well, I’d like you to meet me at
Winneshiek Theater,” she answered. “It’s regarding a case I’m working on.”
“Sure, I can be there at three-thirty,
that work for you?”
“Perfect. See you then.”
“He’s a lying bastard.”
Faye’s voice came from right over
Mary’s shoulder and she jumped. “Faye, it’s not polite to listen to private
phone conversations,” Mary said, breathing deeply to help slow her heart.
“I’m a ghost, I don’t give a damn about
polite,” she sneered, rolling her eyes. “As a matter of fact, when I was alive
I didn’t give a damn about polite.”
“Well, there’s a surprise.”
Faye walked around and faced Mary. Her
head was still hung in the angle caused by her death. It made Mary want to cock
her head too, to look into Faye’s eyes, but she resisted the temptation.
“You don’t like me very much,” Faye
accused.
Shrugging, Mary leaned back in her
chair. “I don’t have to like you, I just have to help
you.”
“Why in the world don’t you like me?
I’m rich, I’m popular, I’m intelligent, I’m well-dressed and I know people who
can help you move up in the world.”
“You’re a bully,” Mary said simply. “I
just don’t like bullies.”
“I’m not a bully,” Faye protested.
Mary stood and walked up to Faye. “Sure
you are. You use all of those things you just mentioned – money,
intelligence, and power – to intimidate the people around you,” she said. “You were blessed with so
many gifts and instead of using them to help people, you use them to help yourself.”
“Well, I didn’t do that all the time,”
she blustered. “There are some people who love me.”
“Name one.”
Faye stopped and thought for a moment.
Several times she started to speak and thought better of it, and closed her
mouth. “This is like a bad rendition of A
Christmas Carol , isn’t it?” she finally said.
Mary nodded sadly. “Except,
in this version, the redemption is not going to come in this life.”
Faye sat down limply on the couch.
“Well, damn, this is not what I planned for my life.”
She looked over at Mary. “I really did
want people to like me,” she confessed. “But it was much easier to have them
fear me. I really made a mess of things.”
Sighing, Mary sat down next to Faye.
“Well, it’s not cast in stone yet. You still have some time here on the earth
to alter some things you did while you were alive.”
“Rewrite my last scene?”
“Something like that.”
Faye stood and floated across the room,
her arms outstretched. “I’ll do it! I’ll change my life! I’ll make amends! I’ll
change the world! People will love me.”
“Faye, you don’t have a lot of time.
Perhaps you ought to just start with trying to undo some of the damage you’ve
caused.”
Faye stopped floating and looked over
at Mary, glaring. “You really know how to take the joy out of a final scene,”
she said and quickly disappeared.
Shaking her head, Mary went back to her
computer. She had a list of things she still needed to do. Tapping her fingers
against the table, she realized she really ought to let Bradley know that she
was going to be meeting with a suspect, even though she doubted Dan had
anything to do with the murder.
Call her a coward, but she really didn’t
want to talk to him. As a matter of fact, she decided, if she never spoke with
him again she felt her life would be much better. Weighing her options, she
went over to her computer and accessed her e-mail. She typed Dorothy a brief
note.
Dorothy
– I’m meeting with Dan Stevens at Winneshiek this afternoon for a follow-up on
the Faye McMullen case. Just FYI. Mary O’Reilly.
There, she nodded at the e-mail before
she pressed “Send,” now no one can say I
didn’t tell anyone what I was doing.
An hour later, the tow truck still hadn’t delivered the
Roadster yet, and, she decided, she really didn’t want to take it out in the
snow again. She dressed in
“Well, I’d like you to meet me at
Winneshiek Theater,” she answered. “It’s regarding a case I’m working on.”
“Sure, I can be there at three-thirty,
that work for you?”
“Perfect. See you then.”
“He’s a lying bastard.”
Faye’s voice came from right over
Mary’s shoulder and she jumped. “Faye, it’s not polite to listen to private
phone conversations,” Mary said, breathing deeply to help slow her heart.
“I’m a ghost, I don’t give a damn about
polite,” she sneered, rolling her eyes. “As a matter of fact, when I was alive
I didn’t give a damn about polite.”
“Well, there’s a surprise.”
Faye walked around and faced Mary. Her
head was still hung in the angle caused by her death. It made Mary want to cock
her head too, to look into Faye’s eyes, but she resisted the temptation.
“You don’t like me very much,” Faye
accused.
Shrugging, Mary leaned back in her
chair. “I don’t have to like you, I just have to help
you.”
“Why in the world don’t you like me?
I’m rich, I’m popular, I’m intelligent, I’m well-dressed and I know people who
can help you move up in the world.”
“You’re a bully,” Mary said simply. “I
just don’t like bullies.”
“I’m not a bully,” Faye protested.
Mary stood and walked up to Faye. “Sure
you are. You use all of those things you just mentioned – money,
intelligence, and power – to intimidate the people around you,” she said. “You were blessed with so
many gifts and instead of using them to help people, you use them to help yourself.”
“Well, I didn’t do that all the time,”
she blustered. “There are some people who love me.”
“Name one.”
Faye stopped and thought for a moment.
Several times she started to speak and thought better of it, and closed her
mouth. “This is like a bad rendition of A
Christmas Carol , isn’t it?” she finally said.
Mary nodded sadly. “Except,
in this version, the redemption is not going to come in this life.”
Faye sat down limply on the couch.
“Well, damn, this is not what I planned for my life.”
She looked over at Mary. “I really did
want people to like me,” she confessed. “But it was much easier to have them
fear me. I really made a mess of things.”
Sighing, Mary sat down next to Faye.
“Well, it’s not cast in stone yet. You still have some time here on the earth
to alter some things you did while you were alive.”
“Rewrite my last scene?”
“Something like that.”
Faye stood and floated across the room,
her arms outstretched. “I’ll do it! I’ll change my life! I’ll make amends! I’ll
change the world! People will love me.”
“Faye, you don’t have a lot of time.
Perhaps you ought to just start with trying to undo some of the damage you’ve
caused.”
Faye stopped floating and looked over
at Mary, glaring. “You really know how to take the joy out of a final scene,”
she said and quickly disappeared.
Shaking her head, Mary went back to her
computer. She had a list of things she still needed to do. Tapping her fingers
against the table, she realized she really ought to let Bradley know that she
was going to be meeting with a suspect, even though she doubted Dan had
anything to do with the murder.
Call her a coward, but she really didn’t
want to talk to him. As a matter of fact, she decided, if she never spoke with
him again she felt her life would be much better. Weighing her options, she
went over to her computer and accessed her e-mail. She typed Dorothy a brief
note.
Dorothy
– I’m meeting with Dan Stevens at Winneshiek this afternoon for a follow-up on
the Faye McMullen case. Just FYI. Mary O’Reilly.
There, she nodded at the e-mail before
she pressed “Send,” now no one can say I
didn’t tell anyone what I was doing.
An hour later, the tow truck still hadn’t delivered the
Roadster yet, and, she decided, she really didn’t want to take it out in the
snow again. She dressed in
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