Brush With Death by E.J. Stevens Read Free Book Online Page B

left the familiar open grassy areas and easy foot paths of the park behind. 
Gnarled old trees marched closer to the trail, leaving a narrow track just
large enough for two people to run abreast.  With my overburdened bicycle laden
with easel, paints, and enough food for an army, I hoped that I wouldn’t meet
anyone else on the trail.  Though in this heat, that probably wasn’t likely.
    So far, I hadn’t seen a living soul.
    Pedaling fast to catch up to my spectral guide, I gulped in
air and coughed as I swallowed a bug.  Yep, my psychic gift royally sucked. 
    Eyes watering, I careened around the corner and nearly ran
into a boulder.  Stones littered the ground—some covered in moss while others
lay bare, bleached by the sun like old bones.
    The ghost was hovering a few yards away beside a high stone
wall.  The wall was old and crumbling in places.  Perhaps the remnants of a
Victorian garden in decay.  It was my kind of place.
    One end of the wall was little more than a pile of fallen
stones, while the other end was covered in climbing roses.  The fragrant red
blossoms were reminiscent of the ghost’s own signature scent, sans lanolin and
darkroom chemicals.
    As I approached, trying to look over the wall that towered
above my head, the ghost came to sparkle and twinkle beside the rose bush.  The
golden spirit aura and scarlet flowers made a hauntingly beautiful picture.  Cal
would love it.  With a little help from beyond, I’d found the perfect painting
spot.
    I set the kickstand and stepped off my bike, slowly moving
toward the ghost.  It didn’t stray from its spot beside the roses. 
    I wasn’t sure why the ghost had led me here, but it couldn’t
hurt to examine the scene with an artist’s eye.  Sometimes when I looked at a
drawing or painting after completion, I saw details that I hadn’t truly noticed
were there.  Perhaps painting would actually help me solve this case and help
the ghost find its way into the light.
    There was only one way to find out.
     

Chapter 19
Emma
     
    A s usual, Simon
was late.  I picked at my quinoa and shallot salad appetizer and checked my
phone for the bazillionth time.  No messages.
    This wasn’t the first time Simon lost track of time, but it
still hurt.  Had he forgotten our dinner date at the café? 
    Just Veggin’ wasn’t fancy, but I loved this place.  It was
on the opposite side of town from Mr. Green Genes, the organic, fair trade,
non-GMO restaurant where I used to go nearly every day with Yuki.  I still like
the food at Green Genes, but it seemed somehow wrong hanging out there with
Simon.  It was Yuki’s favorite place, home of the famous veggie burritos she
loved so much.  The last time I went there, the food just stuck in my throat. 
I haven’t been back since.
    At Green Genes everything in the place is green—the
tabletops, booths, floor, walls were all different shades of green.  Here at
Just Veggin’ the owners had taken a more lively approach to decorating.  Every
surface was a different color and the walls were covered in splashes of primary
colors, like the result of an epic fruit and veggie food fight.
    I turned my attention from the brightly painted walls and
focused on the television above the juice bar.  The six o’clock news was replacing
old sitcom reruns.  They’d start with boring local news first, but if I had to
wait much longer for Simon I might catch an update on congressional
deliberations over new animal cruelty laws.
    “Gina, can you turn that up?” I asked the waitress.  
    It was a weeknight and the place wasn’t busy.  I didn’t
think she’d mind.
    Gina glanced at the empty chair across from me and gave me a
sympathetic grin. 
    “Sure, sugar,” she said.  “Want to go ahead and order your
dinner or you still want to wait?”
    “I’ll wait,” I said.
    Gina shrugged and went over to a mug on the juice bar that
held the television remote.  She turned up the volume and perched on a stool,
her