The Ghost of Mistletoe Mary by Sue Ann Jaffarian Page A

right. After just a short glance back down the alley, Jeremiah pulled his flashlight back out and slipped inside.
    With the large front windows boarded, the inside was as dark as tar and thick with decay. He moved the flashlight in an arc at first to get his bearings, then focused it, moving slower to get details. It wasn’t a large establishment. There was a line of washers running along the wall to his right and large dryers set into the wall to his left. Like baby birds waiting to be fed, the lids of some washers were open. Others were missing, a few closed. Some of the dryer doors were missing, too, but the few that remained were closed. All the appliances were scarred and rusty. Down the middle of the room ran a narrow counter for folding clothes. A few metal laundry baskets were shoved into one corner and in the corner nearest him on the floor was a pile what looked like old blankets, some clothes, and a few cans of food, along with bottles of water. Granny had said she thought someone had been living there and Jeremiah came to the same conclusion, but wondered how anyone could live with a decaying body in the room.
    The smell was as heavy as a hard rain and his eyes began to water, but he moved forward in search of the body. He moved toward the bundle of blankets on the floor and tapped it with the toe of his boot. It was just ragged blankets. He moved the light to the other corner and spotted a closed door. He moved to it and slowly turned the knob and opened it. A horrible stench pushed him back a few feet, but it wasn’t the smell of rotting flesh. He opened the door wider. It was a small and very dirty customer restroom, not much more than a closet with a tiny sink and commode with a small cracked mirror over the sink. The smell was coming from the toilet, which was full of human waste. The water was probably shut off in the building, not allowing any way for whoever lived here to flush, but it didn’t stop them from using it. Jeremiah backed out and closed the door.
    He moved slowly, going deeper into the narrow room, playing his flashlight back and forth along the floor and under the folding table until he reached the blocked front door. He neither saw, nor stumbled over a corpse along the way.
    â€œDid you find it yet?” asked Granny, popping up next to Jeremiah.
    â€œDon’t do that, Granny,” he scolded, holding his free hand over his heart, “or I’ll be the stiff in here.”
    â€œYeah,” the ghost said, with a mischievous giggle, “Emma hates that, too.”
    â€œI’m a lot older than Emma, girl.” He moved the flashlight over the bank of dryers, specifically the couple that were closed. “And, no, I haven’t found it yet, but I have a good idea where it is. It’s the only place I haven’t checked.” He turned to Granny. “I haven’t seen Mary either. Have you?”
    â€œShe comes and goes with Bucket,” Granny reported, “but she won’t talk to me. I keep telling her we’re here to help and she just makes Bucket scream and yell. I don’t think she was right in the head when she died and she’s no better indeath.”
    â€œCould be,” Jeremiah agreed. “She’d done a lot of damage to herself with booze and drugs over the years.”
    His feet followed the beam of light to the dryers. The smell was stronger. He pulled on the handle of the first one. It groaned in protest, but finally gave and opened. Nothing. The next two dryer doors were missing. He pulled on the latch of the next closed dryer but it was stuck. He pulled it again, leaning back with his weight and it popped open, flooding the room with a stench far worse than the bathroom.
    â€œBingo,” Jeremiah said. He covered his mouth and nose with a gloved hand and trained the light on the body inside the dryer. It was a woman, dressed in a short skirt and blouse, curled in a fetal position inside the metal womb. He