Addicted to Love Read online

  "Think there's any use?"

  He shook his head. "I doubt it. Ellie never really liked to go down there anyway."

  "Okay then. Best to make our escape before any nosy neighbors come to investigate." We went back down the stairs, the silence of the house pressing around us. In the back porch I turned to him. "You want to come with me?" I don't know why I asked, but it seemed like the polite thing to do.

  Frank shook his head. "I'm feeling pretty...thin," he said. He looked it, too. "Think I'll hang around here, try to build up a little more energy."

  "All right. Check in with me when you can."

  Five minutes later Oliver and I were back in my car and driving out of the neighbourhood. I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel as I pondered my next move. I was going to have to look further to find out where Ellie had gone to ground.

  "Well, that was depressing," Oliver observed, looking out the side window.

  "I know."

  "I hate that Frank's dead. It doesn't seem fair."

  I sighed but didn't argue the point. "I'm going to try Ellie's sister next," I said. "I'll drop you back at the office. I want you to try and get appointments for me with Ellie's agent, and her editor."

  "You think they'll see you? What will I say it's about?"

  I pondered. "Just tell them I'm trying to locate her in relation to a case I'm working on," I said finally. "That's all you know. If they'll see me, I'll figure out what to tell them."

  "All right." Oliver tipped his coffee cup up to catch the last dregs, although they'd be cold and unpleasant by now. "I'll actually be glad to get back to the office."

  A little shiver prickled goosebumps down my arms, thinking of the lonely house and its sole ghostly occupant. "I hear you," I said. "Let's get back to the land of the living for a while."

  ~*~

  Ellie's sister, Charlotte MacLaren, lived in a small white bungalow perched in a yard given over almost entirely to flower beds. One narrow walkway led from the sidewalk to the front porch, edged by lush borders of delphiniums and lavender. Three shallow steps led up to the porch, which had been invitingly decorated with wicker chairs and a comfortable-looking swing seat suspended from the sloping roof overhead. I climbed up, resisting the urge to try out the swing, and knocked politely on the cheery yellow door.

  I heard footsteps inside. Then came a pause during which I was probably surveyed through the peephole, and then the door opened. A diminutive woman with grey-streaked hair and a clutch of laugh lines bracketing her brown eyes regarded me with a slightly puzzled air. She was perhaps in her fifties and wore trendy jeans and a flower-print t-shirt.

  "Can I help you?"

  I showed her my PI's license, giving her a chance to get a good look. "I'm looking for Ellie," I said, and quickly put up a hand to forestall any protest as a frown began to shadow her face. "I know, it's a terrible time for her, but I'm not looking to intrude. I have a very important message that I'm trying to get to her, that's all."

  The frown softened a little. "I can give her any message you have."

  "So you do know where she is?"

  She ran a hand down the side of her jeans and quirked a half-smile at me. "I'm her sister, of course I know where she is. That doesn't mean I'm going to tell you."

  I smiled as engagingly as I could. "No matter how important I tell you it is? I really have to deliver it in person."

  Charlotte shook her head a little and sighed. "She doesn't want to see anyone—not even me, truth be told. I have to respect that." She motioned me to take a seat in the swing and came out onto the porch, closing the door behind her. She didn't sit, but leaned back against the porch railing, crossing her arms. "Can you tell me what it's about?"

  I sat on the swing and it swayed under my weight. It would have been lovely to curl up on the cushions and let the breeze push it into gentle motion. I wondered how many times Ellie and Frank had sat here when visiting.

  I pulled a deep breath. "The message is from Frank, Charlotte."

  Her face pinked and the frown came back. "Frank's dead. He left something before he died?"

  "I can't really go into the details," I said carefully. "But please believe me, Ellie would want to get this message. I wouldn't be involved in anything I thought would make things worse for her."

  She shook her head. "Things can't get any worse. But it's not like Frank knew he was...knew that anything was going to happen. How could he leave a message?"

  "I'm sure Ellie will explain it to you after I've talked to her," I said.

  Charlotte looked past me. I wasn't sure if she was trying to see inside the window of her house or just didn't want to meet my eyes while she thought it over. Finally she shook her head again.

  "I can't tell you." She held up a hand just as I'd done to her, to stop my protest. "But I'll ask Ellie if I can tell you," she said. "That's the best I can do."

  I could tell from the hint of steel in her voice that I wasn't going to get any further with her. Charlotte reminded me a little of a teacher I'd had once, and with her, no amount of wheedling would budge a decision. I stood up and offered her one of my cards, then held out my hand. "I appreciate that," I said, "and Ellie will, too. Please speak to her as soon as you can, all right? There's a certain amount of urgency."

  She took my hand, and her clasp was firm and warm. "I'll talk to her. That's all I can promise you."

  ~*~

  Back at the office, Oliver reported that the editor had agreed to see me, but not until next week. He hadn't caught up with the agent yet. Next week might be too late to do Frankie any good, but maybe Charlotte would come through for me before that.

  Frankie showed up briefly at my office before I headed home for the day. He wasn't looking so good. I mean, yes, he was dead, but aside from that. This time, there was no way I would have been fooled into thinking he was a normal human.

  "You're not drawing as much energy from the house anymore," I guessed, eyeing him speculatively.

  He shook his semi-transparent head. "Ellie's been away too long. Her power is fading," he said. "I'm worried. I don't know what will happen to me if I just evaporate without getting to talk to her. It feels so important."

  "Well," I said, "I talked to Charlotte today, and she's going to talk to Ellie. So things are looking up!" Frank looked so dejected I had to stay positive.

  He stood from the blue leather chair and walked to the window, peering out. Could anyone outside see the ghostly apparition in my window? Not likely.

  "I just don't know if I can last much longer," he said. "I might only have one more chance, and what if she reacts the same way she did before? What if I just scare her?"

  I drew a deep breath and sighed. "I'll try my best to prepare her," I said. Mrs. Garret—Ellie. Your husband's a ghost, but he has an important last message for you. She'd probably just think I was crazy, and insensitive into the bargain.

  He turned from the window and looked at me with soft, ghostly eyes. There was only the barest hint of the blue they'd been in life. "I appreciate everything you're doing. You should go and get that ring from the garden soon, in case this doesn't work out and I disappear. You've earned it. And if Ellie comes back to the house it'll make that more difficult for you."

  I waved a hand. "The job's not finished yet. Let me worry about that end of it, all right? And you're still going to be here a while. I'm sure of it."

  The ghost of a smile lifted the corners of his mouth. "Don't wait too long, Acacia. See you soon—I hope."

  And with a touch of one transparent hand to the brim of his hat, he was gone.

  ~*~

  I spent a fretful night, worrying that I wouldn't hear from Charlotte soon enough, or that I would hear from her and the news would be bad. In the morning, I was just unlocking my office door, balancing takeout coffees in a tray for myself and Oliver, when my office phone started to ring. I answered it breathlessly. It was Charlotte.

  "Miss Sheridan?" she asked. "I've spoken with Ellie, but I'm afraid i
t's no go. She simply doesn't want to be disturbed, and she doesn't see how you could possibly have a message from Frank for her."

  I dropped into my chair, feeling leaden. "Did you try to persuade her?"

  Charlotte was quiet for a moment. "I told her that you seemed very sincere to me, but I didn't push her, no. This is a terrible time for my sister. I want to be very careful with her. Surely you understand that?"

  "I do," I said with a sigh. "But this message would certainly bring her more peace...maybe some closure. Would you ask her again?"

  "I'm sorry," she said firmly. "I took you at your word, and I did what I promised, but without knowing more, I'm not willing to push Ellie on this."

  I floundered wildly for an idea. I couldn't tell her about Frank—she'd write me off as a nutcase. But I needed to prove to her that I was serious, that I really had something. "Could I drop by again later today, then?" I asked her, desperate. "I'll tell you more about what's going on."

  There was a longer hesitation this time. I might have piqued her curiosity.

  "I'll be home after three o'clock," she said finally. "But I'm not making any promises beyond that."

  "Thank you. You won't regret it. See you at three."

  I hung up and wondered what I was going to come up with, in the next six hours, to make Charlotte believe me.

  ~*~

  After pacing my office for an hour and hashing the problem over with Oliver, we'd thought of only one possibility.

  I drove out to Frank and Ellie's house again and let myself in at the back door. After carefully closing and locking it behind me, I called, "Frank! Frank, are you here?"

  I moved into the kitchen and Frank came into the room from the other side, gliding silently. He looked about the same as he had yesterday.

  "You look better!" I told him, but he only gave me a skeptical half-smile.

  "Any news?"

  "Let's sit down," I said, pulling out one of the kitchen chairs. Frank sat in it, and I pulled out another for myself. "So far, no luck," I told him. "Charlotte talked to Ellie, but she wouldn't agree to see me."

  The ghost hung his head. "That's it, then," he murmured. "It's over."

  I put out a hand to pat his arm, but of course it went right through. I pulled my hand back, feeling awkward. "Look, don't give up yet," I told him. "I have an idea."

  He raised his head, a faint glimmer of hope in his eyes.

  "I know you don't have the strength to manifest anywhere but here," I said. "But what if I could take something to Charlotte that would convince her that I've seen you, talked to you, and this is important. I might be able to convince her to tell me where Ellie is."

  He shrugged his shoulders. "Sure, it might work. But how are you going to prove anything to Charlotte?"

  I dug in my bag and pulled out my notebook. "What if you wrote her a note? Would she recognize your handwriting?"

  Frank seemed to sag in on himself a little more, although he looked at me kindly. "Sure," he said, "But Acacia, how am I going to hold a pen? I'm not as substantial as I was the day we met. I've—thinned out a lot since then."

  I bit my lip. "I know, but it's the only thing I can come up with. What if we go to the part of the house where Ellie's energy is strongest, and see what you can do?"

  "I've been spending most of my time in our bedroom," Frank said. "I figure, we spent the most time together in that one spot, a third of our lives sleeping, right? But it's just not working anymore."

  I thought for a moment. "That's one way to think about it," I said slowly, "but you're looking for Ellie's energy. Wouldn't it make more sense to look in the place where she probably expended more than anywhere else?"

  Frank perked up. "Her office! Why didn't I think of that?"

  I nodded. "Worth a try. You know, I noticed when we were here before that you perked up a bit in there."

  When I followed Frank into Ellie's office, he went straight over and sat in the chair at her computer. He closed his eyes and I waited. Then he opened them and nodded. "I think I feel a difference. Let me hang out here for a while and we'll see what happens."

  "Great!" Now to work on the other part of my plan. "I was thinking about what you said. Can you tell me where that ring is? I might as well try to find it while I'm waiting."

  Frank nodded, his eyes sad again. He must think I didn't believe our plan was going to work, but all he said was, "Good thinking," and then proceeded to tell me precisely where to dig in the garden at the bottom of the hedge-rimmed yard. "There's a trowel in a basket in the back porch," he told me. "You shouldn't need anything else."

  I'm not one for yard work, but fifteen minutes later I was back in the house, rinsing the ring under warm water at the kitchen sink. In the cupboard underneath I found some cleaning supplies and an old toothbrush, and in no time the ring gleamed gold in the noonday light, apparently no worse for the years it had lain in the earth. The cleaning revealed an inscription: My two addictions – words and you.

  Frankie turned brighter eyes to me when I entered the office. The chair he sat on was barely visible through him, just the hint of an outline, and the colours in his clothes and skin were intensified. "It's working!" I exclaimed. "And I found it!" I held the ring out for his inspection.

  He smiled and put out a hand, and I held my breath as I gently placed the ring on his palm. If it fell right through, it would be devastating for both of us.

  But it sat, steadily aloft, on his palm, winking in a shaft of light from the window.

  "If I can hold this," Frank said on an intake of breath, "let's try that pen."

  ~*~

  It took a painstaking half-hour as Frank figured out what he wanted to say, and he laboriously wrote it in my notebook. By the end, though, he held the pen with ease and seemed as solid as when I first met him.

  "You should probably come with me now," I said as I tucked the notebook back into my bag. "You're back to full strength, and if Charlotte tells me where Ellie is, we could go there right away."

  Frank's brow furrowed under his Jays' cap. "But if I move away from here, I'll start to fade. What if I can't come back again?"

  "I think we have to take a chance." My eyes lit on the shelf beside Ellie's desk, where copies of her books proudly lined a shelf. "Okay, wait. I have an idea. Stay put for half an hour, and I'll be back, okay?"

  He looked puzzled, but nodded. I patted him on the shoulder—successfully, this time—and hurried out to my car. I called Oliver and said, "I have a mission for you."

  "Thank the gods. I'm sitting here bored out of my mind. Did Frank write the note?"

  "Yes, but he needs a boost. Close the office for half an hour. Here's what I need you to do."

  It actually took me forty-five minutes to run my own part of the errand and meet up briefly with Oliver before returning for Frank.

  I pulled up in front of Frank and Ellie's house this time and simply called into the air, "Frank? Can you hear me? Can you come out to the car?"

  He materialized in the front seat beside me. "What are you—hey," he said, turning to me in surprise. "I still—feel it. Ellie's energy. How can that be?"

  I nodded toward the back seat, and Frank turned to look. Bookstore bags filled the seat, each of them holding copies of Ellie's books. Oliver and I had hit every store in the city between us. Frank turned to look at me again, understanding dawning on his face.

  I nodded. "Ellie's energy. It's all there, in her books. And now it's portable." I shifted the car into gear and checked the rear view mirror. "Let's go talk to Charlotte."

  ~*~

  Back at Charlotte's house, I parked on the street and walked through the profusion of flowers again to the front porch. The door opened as I put my foot on the first step, and she came outside. I climbed the steps and smiled.

  "Thanks for agreeing to talk to me again."

  She sighed. "It's foolish of me, really. I guess I just wish you really did have a message from Frank, and that it might help Ellie a little."

&nb
sp; "Let's sit on the swing," I told her, and settled into the cushion at one end. Charlotte took the space beside me. I reached into my bag and pulled out the notebook in which Frank had written his note.

  "I know you went to Ellie's house with her and helped her pack for this trip," I said gently. "Did Ellie tell you anything about why she wanted to get out of the house just then?"

  Charlotte glanced at me, then away. She shrugged. "It makes sense. The house is full of...reminders. She and Frank lived there together for thirty years. I don't think it's all that odd—"

  "But did she say anything...happened? In particular? Anything that frightened her or made her even more upset?"

  This time when Charlotte looked at me, she held my gaze. Finally she sighed. "She thought she saw...something. She was afraid she was losing her mind from the grief. She didn't know how else to handle it."

  "She thought she saw Frank," I said firmly. "She thought she saw his ghost."

  Charlotte went pale. "How could you—? You couldn't know that."

  I opened the page to Frank's note and held it out to her. "I know it, because it's what happened."

  Hesitantly, she let her eyes fall to the page and run over the words. I heard her sharply indrawn breath, but she kept her eyes on the page, apparently reading it again.

  Dear Lottie,

  I know Ellie and I were the only ones who ever called you that, so I hope between that and the handwriting you'll believe this is from me. Please help Ellie understand that I need to see her—I need to tell her some things before I...move on. I frightened her before, and that is killing me; well, you know, it would be killing me if...anyway. Please tell Miss Sheridan where Ellie is; she'll get me to her. And tell Ellie not to be afraid. This is real, and it's important. This is the last favor I'll ever ask of you, Lottie. Promise.

  Your loving brother-in-law,

  Frank

  Charlotte finally looked up at me with eyes glistening with tears, and I knew she would help.

  ~*~

  Frank still sat in the car, looking as solid as he had when I'd left him.