Heart racing at the idea of what she intended to do, Olivia took a deep cleansing breath and told herself she must calm down if she wanted this to work. She remained quiet on her bed for another thirty minutes before she maintained the necessary relaxed focus required for an out-of-body experience.
When she had done this while flying, it had been the first time she had ever attempted to do it with people in close proximity. The plane hadn’t been full on her flight to Portland, and she had the row to herself, so there was no one sitting next to her on either side. During that projection, she had focused on where she wanted to go, visualizing the place on the map, along with what she had seen during her last visits to the property. While it was the first time she had astral projected while surrounded by people, it was not the first time she had visited her new house by this method.
Her real estate agent believed she had purchased the Frederickport property sight unseen, aside from photographs sent to her by the agent, online listing photos, and a home tour via video chat. However, she had visited the property prior to making the offer via astral projection.
During her last visit to the house, via astral projection from the airplane, she had initially kept her eyes closed. But when she finally opened them, she found herself standing in the middle of her new living room in Frederickport. She had intended to walk through the entire house, looking to see if she needed to hire a cleaning company before her furniture arrived. Yet before she had a chance to go upstairs, someone had run by her window. Curious to see the trespasser on her property, Olivia had followed the woman—something she now regretted. Had she not followed Betty from her front yard down Beach Drive, Heather Donovan would never have seen her, and whoever tried to kill her would have no motive to try silencing her. But there was nothing she could do about that now. Now, she needed to help the police find the killer.
Sitting on her bed, her eyes closed, Olivia imagined the road to Astoria from Frederickport, visualizing how she would drive if going by car. From her brief research on her smartphone, she had found the location of the church hosting Betty’s service.
“Olivia Davis, what are you doing here?” a female voice called out.
Olivia opened her eyes and found herself looking at two women who stood about six feet away, each staring in her direction. They looked familiar. She glanced around and noticed the rows of pews and, beyond the pews, what looked like an open casket. A few people sat in the pews, some stood by the casket, and others were entering the building through a door to her left. She heard faint organ music. I made it, Olivia told herself.
She looked back at the two women, who continued to stare at her. It was then she realized where she had seen them before—standing in her bedroom the other night.
“What are you doing here?” the eldest of the two women asked again.
“Marie?” Olivia asked hesitantly.
“Of course,” Marie snapped. “What in the world are you doing here? And goodness, couldn’t you have worn something more appropriate for a funeral?”
Olivia looked down at her body. She still wore the linen night dress she had slept in the previous night, its fabric wrinkled. Looking down at her feet, she saw they were bare. She wiggled her toes, noting the peeling nail polish remaining from her last pedicure.
“And you didn’t even comb your hair,” Marie scolded.
No longer looking at her feet, Olivia looked up to the two women and absently attempted to comb her fingers through her hair, yet there seemed to be nothing tangible to comb. But she knew Marie was right. Olivia hadn’t combed her hair that morning.
The attractive woman standing with Marie chuckled and said, “I’m Eva Thorndike. I know you’ve heard about me. It’s nice to meet you. But as Marie asked, why are you here?”
Now self-conscious about her appearance, Olivia glanced around the church again and was relieved when no one seemed to look her way. When a little boy almost walked through her the next moment and then moved through Eva and Marie as if they weren’t there, Olivia found comfort knowing the living could not see her. As it was, she felt as if she had just woken up living one of her worst nightmares, the one where she was suddenly at high school without a stitch of clothing. Fortunately, she didn’t sleep nude, because standing in the middle of a church in a wrinkled nightdress, barefoot and with uncombed hair was bad enough.
“Why are you here?” Marie asked again.
Olivia looked back at Marie and blinked several times. Finally, she said, “I’m sorry. I am just a little overwhelmed right now.”
“Yes, we can see that. But please answer Marie’s question,” Eva said.
Olivia regained her composure and looked at the two spirits. “I’m hoping to see Betty. If it were me, I’d want to go to my funeral before I moved on. And the mediums told me that when I’m in this state, I can communicate with spirits.” She paused a moment and looked the two ghosts up and down. With a shrug, she said, “Like I’m doing now. But why are you here?”
“We’re here for the same reason,” Marie said.
“You are?” Olivia frowned. “No one told me you were coming.”
“I imagine you would have found out had you accepted Danielle’s dinner invitation,” Marie said. “Both Eva and I stopped over at Marlow House last night, and we discussed the funeral. While Betty’s spirit wasn’t with her family when we were here earlier, we thought it possible that she might show up at her service.”
“Oh.” Olivia glanced around and then looked back at the spirits.
“Danielle usually likes to come to these things,” Marie explained. “Gives her a chance to talk to the departing spirit. But she barely knew the girl, and while Walt knew her slightly better, it would seem odd for them to travel all the way to Astoria to attend the funeral of a girl they barely knew. Plus, if they ran into Betty’s spirit, it would be difficult to have much of a talk with her in these close quarters.”
“And it’s raining outside,” Eva added.
“Marie Nichols, is that you?” a female voice called out.
Marie, Eva, and Olivia turned to the voice and found themselves looking at Betty Kelty. She wore a dress, and had they peeked in the casket earlier, they would have seen it was the same dress her body wore.
“Betty, we were hoping to see you,” Marie called out.
Betty stepped closer and looked at the woman by Marie’s side. Her eyes widened. “Don’t tell me, Eva Thorndike!”
Eva smiled. “You recognized me.”
Betty grinned. “Oh yes! Your portrait at the museum is my favorite exhibit over there. I can’t believe I’m meeting you!”
“You seem in good spirits—no pun intended. Considering someone killed you,” Marie said.
Betty let out a sigh, and her smile faded. “Yes, that. I…” It was in that moment she noticed Olivia standing off to the side. She stopped talking and then looked Olivia up and down. Finally, she asked, “Who are you?”
“I’m Olivia Davis.”
Betty’s eyes widened. “That’s the name of the woman they hired to take my old job.”
“Yes, that is me.”
“Oh no!” Betty gasped. “You were murdered, too! I am so sorry!”
Olivia shook her head. “No. I’m not dead.”
Betty frowned. “Are you a medium or something?” She looked her up and down again. “I thought for sure you were dead like the others I’ve been able to talk to. Especially since you’re wearing that.” Betty glanced around the church. No one seemed to look their way. She looked back at Olivia and said, “You might want to go put something on.”
“Don’t worry, dear,” Marie said. “No one can see her. It is a long story; I will explain it later. But first, we need to find out what happened to you.”
“I’ll be curious to hear the story. But frankly, nothing surprises me anymore. Not since I was murdered. It has been a crazy week.”
“Where have you been?” Eva asked.
“Lots of places. After the attack, I suppose the best way to describe it, I was stunned. I couldn’t believe what had just happened. I had no idea I had been killed. At first, I didn’t realize I had been stabbed. Yes, I felt a sharp pain at first, and then I was pushed down in the bushes. Shoved back. But I wasn’t hurting, at least not after that initial sharp pain.”
“I suspect when you were stabbed, it killed you instantly,” Eva said. “Which explains the brief pain.”
“What happened then?” Marie asked.
“I didn’t know what to do. I needed to talk to someone, so I just started walking.”
“When did you realize you were dead?” Eva asked.
“It wasn’t until a Doberman told me.”
Marie arched her brows. “A Doberman?”
Betty nodded. “Yes. A very nice Doberman. I don’t think he was supposed to be out alone, but I found him running along the beach. I think I had been walking for at least a day when I met him.”
“How do you know? Time can be tricky for spirits,” Eva said. “Especially for those recently departed.”
“I assume it was the next day. It got dark; then the sun came up again. I wondered why I wasn’t afraid, being out on the beach alone all night. But then I met the Doberman; he was running along the beach. We talked. He helped me understand.”
Still listening to Betty, Olivia glanced from the three ghosts and realized the church was now full, and someone had closed the doors. People filled the pews, and in front of the church, a minister stood at the pulpit, preparing to start the service.
Olivia wanted Betty to simply tell them who had killed her, but she could not bring herself to interrupt the conversation, and a part of her feared that if she raised her voice to get their attention, people would see her—standing in a church wearing just a thin and wrinkled nightdress, or that she might find herself suddenly back in Frederickport, alone in her bed.
The service was about to begin. Marie suggested they all go to the front of the church and stand by the casket so Betty could get a better view.
Olivia disagreed, reminding them why they were there, only to be shushed by Eva, who explained, “All in good time. This is Betty’s service. She is the star of the show—the spiritual guest of honor. After the service, she can tell us what we need to know.”
Reluctantly, Olivia followed the others to the front of the church. Self-conscious in her nightgown and bare feet, Olivia felt like the emperor in the old fable, and imagined that at any moment the people in the pews would abruptly stand, point in her direction and shout, “She isn’t wearing clothes!”
The moment they reached the front of the church and turned around to face the mourners, someone shouted and pointed. It was not the mourners in the pews; it was Betty, who stood by her casket, pointing to one row of pews. “That’s my killer! That’s who killed me!”