Nearly Departed (Spring Cleaning Mysteries) by JB Lynn Read Free Book Online Page B

startled me. The last thing I needed right now was Smoke Barclay asking me if I was okay.
    Dropping my hands from my eyes, I turned to glare at him and came face-to-face with a corpse.

CHAPTER FIVE
     
    Okay, he wasn't really a corpse, technically he was a ghost. You say tomato, I say tomahto…well, no, actually I say tomato.
    Anyway, there he was right outside my window. Not the same dead guy as the one I 'd bumped into in the house. That one had been missing the top part of his skull. This one had a bloody, gaping hole where his lower face had been.
    I stared hard at him, wondering if he had been the one who 'd killed his friends. I could have kicked myself for not following the news stories about the case more closely. If I had, I'd know if I was facing a killer or a victim.
    He was gesturing wildly for me to follow him.
    "I'm on my lunch break," I told him, hedging my bets. Not that I thought he could hurt me. None of the other ghosts I'd encountered in the past three years had harmed me in any way, and just this morning I'd seen the ghost in the gold dress fall through a living man's chest.
    He tapped his ear with the index finger of his right hand.
    I cracked open the door to the van so that he'd be able to hear me. "I said I'm on my lunch break."
    Shaking his head, he again waved at me to follow him.
    Sighing, I grudgingly climbed out, knowing full well I wouldn't know a moment's peace until I did what he wanted. I hadn't wanted that pizza anyway.
    The chin-challenged ghost, convinced that I was following him, entered the house by disappearing through the door. I on the other hand had to use the key and the doorknob. I skipped putting on protective gear, which was pretty stupid considering I could be exposed to tuberculosis, hepatitis, or HIV. Then again, I sometimes excel at doing stupid things.
    Smoke 's temperature fix seemed to have been temporary. Shivering, I stood in the entryway, unsure of where to go since the ghost was nowhere in sight.
    " Hey!" I called.
    He rematerialized inches from my nose, holding up a finger in front of his face.
    "One what?"
    He waggled the finger forward and back.
    "This game of charades is going to get old fast," I told him.
    He pressed his palm over my mouth. It was icy and slimy and not of this world. I deal with blood, and guts, and vomit on a daily basis, but this was by far the grossest thing I 'd ever experienced.
    I screamed my revulsion.
    And because his hand had no actual physical form, there was nothing to stifle the sound. My piercing shriek echoed through the empty house, ringing in my ears. It was quickly followed by a thump in the dining room.
    " What the hell?"
    I made a hard left, charging toward the sound.
    The slimy ghost leapt in front of me, putting up his hands to stop me, but I plowed right through him. The cold, slimy sensation passed through my entire body. I stumbled. My stomach roiled traitorously, and I was glad I had only eaten a mouthful of pizza.
    Regaining control of my motor function, I pushed through to the dining room in search of whatever had crashed. The controlled chaos looked undisturbed, but I knew I 'd heard something, so I walked through to the kitchen.
    My world is so warped that when I set eyes on the figure in black, I automatically assumed it was another disembodied spirit.
    But then whoever it was punched me.
    Hard.
    With a fist.
    A physical, corporeal, definitely earthly, fist.
    The flesh and bone, muscle and knuckles blow bounced off my right cheekbone. The force sent me staggering backward. The pain, radiating from my cheekbone through my eye socket, blinded me.
    Instinctively I raised my hands in front of my face to ward off any further assault as I backed away unsteadily, desperate to get away. Something hard smacked against my ankle. I fought to maintain my balance, but my feet flew into the air and I fell backward.
    The back of my head cracked against the tiled floor like an egg on the side of a frying pan, and I slipped into