Chapter 6
“Some people call that being a medium,” said Hilda. “Spirits come to me because they know I can relay information to you, their dear loved ones. I am a channel through which they can make contact with those of us still in the earthly realm. Let me tell you, there are quite a few asking for my attention right now. But tonight, I didn’t come to do that kind of reading, I’m here to talk about my book and to hear about your experiences with ghosts.”
She held up a copy of her book. “I have been called in on many cases by private individuals as well as the police. It can be frustrating at times because, like many of you, I sometimes sense and perceive things that others cannot see or hear. On one occasion, I met with police at the home of a woman who was missing and presumed dead. I instantly smelled cigar smoke although no one was smoking. I mentioned it to the police but no one else in the room could smell it. Of course, they thought I was daft. It turned out that the man who abducted her was a cigar smoker. It was a huge clue to his identity. The smell wasn’t actually present, but through my psychic abilities, I was able to smell his scent.”
She held up a small fancy bottle. The glass stopper was shaped like a multidimensional star and had flecks of gold in it. Hilda pulled off the top and handed it to the man closest to her. “Tell me what you smell.”
He sniffed the bottle. “Nothing. Is it supposed to smell like something?”
She smiled at him and asked him to pass it on. In total, five more people smelled the bottle. One identified it as patchouli oil, one as lavender, one as pine, and the last person claimed it smelled rancid, like spoiled food.
“Which is it?” asked a woman.
Hilda waved her arms dramatically. “With the exception of the first gentleman, you were each picking up a scent through your own innate psychic abilities. You can do what I do but you need to hone your skills. Instead of pushing away things like a scent that no one else can smell, you need to embrace them.”
The bottle was passed toward the back, with various people sniffing it as she spoke. When it reached me, I was positive that I smelled mint.
“Ms. Rattenhorst?” A portly man raised his hand. “If you have a ghost”—his face flushed a ruddy red—“I mean, if you happen to encounter one, what should you do?”
“You can enjoy meeting the ghost and treasure the moment.”
The audience tittered.
“But if you’d rather the ghost go away, legend holds that the cure is to circle the ghost nine times. Or you can pull out your pockets to show the ghost that they are empty, and the ghost will not be able to harm you.”
Without warning, Hilda looked directly at me. Her eyes locked on mine. “Oh! This has never happened to me before. A spirit is trying to convey . . . Oh dear! There’s a killer in the building!”
I had never heard it so quiet in Color Me Read. Everyone stared at her in shock. And then a moaning wail echoed through the bookstore. Loud and unmistakable. I almost expected to hear chains rattling. Frodo bounded toward me and wedged his nose between my legs as if he wanted to hide. People looked around wide-eyed and wriggled in their chairs uncomfortably.
Hilda’s eyes rolled upward, and she collapsed into a heap on the floor.
I ran toward her. All around me people gasped.
“Hilda!” I picked up her hand and patted it. “Hilda?”
Jacquie rushed over and knelt next to me. “Good heavens. She fainted dead away!” she exclaimed.
As gently as I could, I tapped Hilda’s cheeks. She opened her eyes and grasped Jacquie’s arm. “There’s evil here. Earthly evil.”