Day Shift

“I’m here,” she called from the kitchen, and Joe followed Manfred into his alleged kitchen. Joe looked around, trying to suppress his dismay. He couldn’t imagine cooking in the depressing and outdated little room.

“Do you cook much, Manfred?” Chuy said, managing to make his tone only inquisitive.

“No, I’m a microwave kind of guy,” Manfred said. “You cook, Olivia?”

“No,” she said, with a little astonishment in her voice. As if she couldn’t believe they were talking about something so unimportant when there was business to be done.

Joe sighed. He realized that once again, he was being reminded to be grateful for the love and nurturing of Chuy, who loved to cook and considered the preparation of good food to be an important part of his day. “So, we’re here to contact the dead,” he said. “Mrs. Goldthorpe, I assume?”

“Yeah,” Olivia said. Joe drew near enough to see that Olivia’s face was bruised.

“You’re okay?” he asked.

“You should see the other guy,” she said, without a smile.

Chuy put his hand on Olivia’s shoulder, and she did not pull away. She even seemed, after a moment, to relax just a little.

“So what’s the procedure?” Joe asked.

“You sound interested,” Manfred said.

“I am. I’ve never done this before,” Joe said. He didn’t need to contact the dead, since he could see them all the time, but he didn’t add that.

“I’m glad you’re open to the experience,” Manfred said briskly. “I’ve pulled this table out so there’s room for all of us.”

So at least the kitchen doesn’t always look this crammed, Joe thought.

“We all sit around it and hold hands. I’ll try to summon Rachel. If she won’t come, I’ll try to reach her husband, Morton. He may not be willing since I don’t have Rachel to use as an attraction, but I can try.”

“The son accuses you of theft?” Chuy said.

Manfred nodded.

“Then we’ll do our best,” Joe said, and took Olivia’s left hand with his right, and Manfred’s right hand with his own left. Across the table, Chuy linked hands, too. Their eyes met, and in his partner’s, Joe saw almost infinite patience.

Olivia did not look excited or interested. She looked intent. And deep past that intensity and committal to move forward, Joe saw pain and suffering and rage. He sighed. One day Olivia would explode from this volatile combination, like a bomb. She was dealing out pain and violence to get rid of the rage, and probably Lemuel’s energy leeching helped. But the more violence Olivia dealt, the less effective it was in controlling the rage.

Manfred said, “Olivia, you need to relax.”

She took some deep breaths and managed to contain herself. “All right,” she said. “All right.” The tension dropped a few degrees, and Manfred’s power began to flow between their linked hands. It was strong and pure, and it glistened. Joe could see it, almost taste it. Joe began to see faces in that power, spirits drawn close by it. It seemed funny to him that Manfred could only sense the presence of the dead, when they were so visible to him and Chuy.

Not everyone came back, of course. Bobo’s girlfriend Aubrey hadn’t, and she’d been a murder victim. It was a fact that those who’d met violent deaths were much more likely to walk forever as ghosts. Joe had figured he’d see Aubrey striding across the barren land to reach the river or coming into the shop to play her irritating flirtation games.

But meeting up with the ghost of her murderer had been a much more painful prospect. Luckily Joe hadn’t seen that one, either.

Joe made himself look at the faces forming nearby. Mildred, well, that made sense. And he recognized the homeless man who’d roamed around Midnight for ten years, attracted by the town but scared of it, too. He saw a Native American woman who had something urgent to say, and she muttered it through Manfred’s lips… but in a language they couldn’t understand. Olivia’s eyes showed white all around at hearing Manfred speak in tongues, as it must have seemed to her.

Then Rachel Goldthorpe said, “I’m sorry he’s giving you trouble.” The other three hadn’t ever heard her voice, but they never doubted this was the dead woman.

Manfred was even sitting like someone else, Joe realized. His shoulders were slumped with age and illness, and he was a little back from the table as though there were more of him to accommodate. She must have been a heavy woman, Joe thought.

Silence reigned, and Joe thought, None of us know what to do. We all thought Manfred would question the spirit, if she appeared. They hadn’t foreseen it was possible that Rachel might inhabit the psychic.

Joe said, “Rachel, where did you hide the jewelry?” He was not frightened of the dead, but he was uncertain how to handle the situation, which was a first for him.

Rachel said, via Manfred, “In Morton’s study. Where Lewis will never look. He and his dad never got along.” She shook Manfred’s head sadly.