Ghost Music by Graham Masterton Read Free Book Online Page A

really have to go,” she told me. “My fridge is empty and I need to do some heavy-duty shopping.”
    â€œWe could go out for pizza if you’re hungry.”
    â€œNo, I’m so sick of pizza. I need actual food. I’ve even run out of tofu.”
    I showed her downstairs to the front door. She gave me a warm, squashy-breasted hug and she smelled strongly of vanilla musk. She said, “Tomorrow, remember. You need to get back to reality.”
    â€œI promised, didn’t I?”
    She went skipping down the steps and I closed the door behind her. As I started to climb back up the stairs, I saw an elderly man standing on the second-floor landing, half-hidden in the shadows, looking down at me. White-haired, skeletal-faced, with bushy white eyebrows. He was wearing a pale gray smock with dozens of paintbrush marks all over it, like birds’ footprints, and a floppy gray beret.
    â€œHow’s it going?” I called out. But the elderly man didn’t answer. Instead, he turned his back on me and disappeared up the next flight of stairs.
    I reached the landing and looked up, but there was no sign of him. I didn’t even hear a door close. I guessed he must have been Pearl’s friend, the one who was painting her life study. Pretty darn unsociable, whoever he was.
    I let myself into my apartment, switched on the flat-screen TV that stood in the corner, and poured myself another glass of wine. I hadn’t called my parents since the weekend, so I picked up the phone and dialed their number in New Milford. All I heard wasmy mother’s voice warbling,
“This is the Lake residence! Randolph and Joyce are unable to come to the phone right now, but they would absolutely love to hear what you have to tell us, so please leave us a message
.
And make it heartfelt
,
won’t you?”
    â€œDis is da plumbah,” I said, in a thick Bronx accent. “I’d love to come by and fiddle wit your cistern, sweetheart.” Well—it served her right for being so precious.
    I eased myself back in one of my armchairs with my feet propped up on the coffee-table, and watched
My Name Is Earl
for a while. Earl, as usual, was talking about karma. I think I would, too, without question, if I lost a $100,000 lottery ticket and then found it again, the way that Earl had.
    Actually, I was beginning to think that Kate was right about fate, and that karma was at work in my life, too. As every day passed, I was beginning to feel more and more like a bit-part player in some long-running TV drama, in which everybody knew the storyline except me. How can you make choices when nobody explains to you what the choices are? Just stand here, Gideon, and say these lines. Don’t worry what they mean.
    There was a quick, soft knocking at my door. I went to open it, and it was Kate. There was karma for you. She was wearing a black roll-neck sweater and jeans, and her hair was tied back with a black velvet ribbon. She looked pale, and she was chafing her hands together as if she felt cold.
    â€œHey,” I greeted her. “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”
    â€œCan I come in?”
    â€œSure, of course you can. You just missed Margot. How about a glass of wine?”
    â€œYes, thanks.” She sat down on the end of one of the sofas, clutching herself tightly.
    â€œAre you feeling the cold?” I asked her. “I can turn up the heat.”
    â€œNo, no. I’m fine. I was wondering if you were free for the next two weeks.”
    â€œFree? When? To do what?”
    â€œTo come away with me.”
    I brought her a glass of wine and then I sat down next to her. “You want me to come away with you? You mean on vacation?”
    â€œWell, kind of. I’d like you to meet some people I know. You don’t have to worry about the cost—I’ll pay for everything.”
    â€œWhat’s Victor going to say?”
    â€œVictor won’t