The Silent Ghost by Sue Ann Jaffarian Read Free Book Online Page B

asked them to help me help you.”
    The wary spirit said nothing but looked at the two living women, then at Granny, her head moving slowly as she took in each.
    Continuing to sketch, Kelly asked Tanisha, “You look awful. How do you feel?”
    “Better, but still pretty low.” Tanisha rubbed her chest. “It’s almost like a weight sitting on my chest.” She turned back to the laptop. “There are more Saatelas than you’d think in New England, but I found a Rhoda Saatela Browne in Weston.”
    Kelly stopped drawing. “Weston’s west of here, isn’t it?”
    “Yes, about twenty miles away, if that.” Tanisha got up and went to the kitchen counter where she’d set her cell phone. She brought it back to the desk and started punching in numbers as she read them from the screen.
    “You’re just going to call her up?” asked Kelly.
    “Why not? I cold-call leads on stories all the time. Nothing to it.” While they waited for the call to be answered, both of them watched the spirit hovering a few feet away. Granny had posted herself as a guard, keeping the unhappy ghost away from Tanisha.
    “It’s voice mail,” she said to Kelly. “Hi,” Tanisha spoke into the phone when the tone sounded, “My name is Tanisha Costello. I bought the loft in Cambridge earlier this year from you and wanted to ask you a few questions about it. Nothing major. I just thought you could help me with some history on the place.” She left her number.
    “Hopefully,” she said, putting her phone down, “that’s the right Rhoda Saatela, and she’ll be willing to have a little chat.”
    Tanisha walked away from the desk and paced, continuing to shake off the depression the ghost had layered on like thick icing. “You think maybe Saatela sold the place because of the ghost?”
    “There’s a thought.” Kelly held the drawing up, looking between it and its subject, comparing and making a few changes. “Even if she couldn’t see or hear it, she might have felt negative vibes in the loft.”
    “This ghost still trying to drain you?” Granny asked Tanisha. Kelly relayed Granny’s question to her.
    “Not as much, Granny,” Tanisha answered. “But boy, I’m whipped. Every time it happens, I feel like I can hardly move.”
    “Well, this is sort of what your ghost-friend looks like.” Kelly held out the hasty drawing for inspection.
    Tanisha came back to the desk and took the notepad. “Wow, you’re pretty good at this. Maybe you have a career ahead of you as a sketch artist for the police.”
    “Very funny,” Kelly shot back.
    On the pad Kelly had sketched a young woman wearing jeans and a snug light-colored t-shirt with a slightly bare midriff. On her feet were hiking boots. Her hair was shoulder-length, straight, and layered.
    Tanisha glanced up from the drawing to the hazy blob, but saw no resemblance. “And her age?”
    “Hard to say, but if I had to guess, twenty-something, and I think her hair is light to medium brown.”
    “You know, she looks sort of familiar, but living around here, with so many students in the area, I see tons of girls this age. And jeans and a t-shirt—that style has been pretty generic for the past few decades.”
    Kelly nodded in agreement. “True, but the hair is sleek and modern. I mean, it’s not teased or flipped on the ends or anything like that. And look at her jeans. They aren’t skinny jeans. They’re much looser than what we wear today. And see here?” Kelly pointed to a dark spot on the leg of the jeans just above the knee. “That’s a rip or hole.”
    Tanisha looked confused. “So she’s fairly contemporary but not too much so?”
    “Exactly.”
    “I guess that blows the idea that I might know her.” Again, Tanisha looked back and forth between the drawing and the hazy figure. “So this is what she was wearing when she died?”
    “I think so. At least my mom says ghosts wear what they last had on.”
    “But she’s not talking?”
    Kelly shook her head. “Not