Cassie picked a historic place on the outskirts of town, an old Victorian converted into a restaurant. The wide plank flooring wasn’t level and after a long day had a funhouse effect as I followed the hostess to our table. There were hundred-year-old portraits on the walls above panels that appeared to be aged copper, pounded into a pattern. We were seated next to a window that overlooked a manicured garden.
The menu was full of low country favorites and overpriced drinks, which we both indulged in. The second one went down easier than the first. My shrimp and grits arrived after I’d had my fourth vodka and soda.
“You gonna take it easy now?” she said.
I waved her off. “I’ll be all right. Rehydrating is all.”
We were silent for the next several minutes while we ate. Afterward, we both ordered coffee. I filled her in on a few of the details about my life. She listened, and offered little in return about hers. About what I expected.
Waiting for the check to arrive, she said, “I forgot how much I hated this place.”
“Why? Seems all right by me. Maybe a bit pricey, but I suppose any place in a touristy area will be so.”
“The food’s fine.” She looked up and smiled, softening her features. At times I failed to recognize how attractive she was. “It’s the extracurricular activity that goes on here. It’s an old building and has seen a lot. I get lots of visitors here. That can be distracting when all I want to do is enjoy the human company sitting across from me.”
And that was something else I failed to recognize, or even think about. What was the world like through her eyes? Even if the shit wasn’t real, she saw it, which I supposed made it real enough. A life sentence of wandering souls pestering her.
“Does that happen a lot?” I asked.
Sipping from her mug, she offered a slight shrug. “Sitting across from a human I want to talk to? No, not really.”
I offered her a smile. “That is intriguing, but I meant the ghost thing.”
She sighed into a soft smile in return. “Sometimes it does. Other times, it’s like they’re off bothering someone else. I can go days without a visitor. Then, boom, they’re all over me. Everyone needing something different. I have to prioritize who to help, which, if you knew me before I was nearly killed, was not something I was ever good at.”
“A bit disheveled in your former life?”
“You have no idea.”
I noticed the patrons at a nearby table glancing over. “You’ll have to tell me more about that. But not today. It’s time to take you home. Let’s get going.”
The alcohol enhanced the funhouse effect of the flooring. We exited the cool, dim foyer, out into the heat again. Did it ever let up? Even with the sun setting it felt the same as it had a couple of hours ago.
We drove across town to Cassie’s place. I threw the car into park in front of her house and left the engine idling.
“You gonna be okay?” I asked.
“I guess,” she said.
Seemed like something was bothering her. The reality of the attack could be settling in, but not having time to process it, she couldn’t speak about it. Or perhaps it was the event she experienced during the interrogation.
I placed my hand over the ignition. “Want me to come in for a while?”
“Yeah, that might help.”
I cut the engine and followed her across the yard. Birds occupied a nearby tree, whistling with the breeze. I caught a whiff of chicken burning on a grill. Dark clouds filled the western sky. The descending sun cast an orange hue around the grey. The Spanish moss hanging from the trees stood out.
Cassie’s house was cool and dark and quiet. The heavy front door swung shut, separating us from the madness of the day. She disappeared into her bedroom as I made my way to the kitchen and put on a fresh pot of coffee. I was still feeling the effects of the drinks, and it was too early in the day to keep that chain going.
About the time the pot was finished brewing, Cassie stepped into the kitchen. Her hair was damp. She walked past me, leaving me in a wash of her fresh scent. She had on a new pair of gym shorts and a plain blue t-shirt with a pocket stretched over her left breast.
“Feel better?” I asked.
“I guess in some ways.”
“And in other ways?”
“Worse.”
“The ambush?”
“Yeah.” She stretched to her tiptoes and reached into the cupboard. Her shorts hiked up a couple inches. She pulled down two mugs and filled them both. Turning to me, she said, “What if he’d been armed, Mitch? I held my own for those thirty seconds between him knocking the wind out of me and you guys showing up, but if he’d had a weapon, there’s no telling.”
“There never is,” I said. “Could have gone any number of ways. And a weapon might not be needed. He could’ve snapped your neck, stepped on your throat, collapsed your trachea.”
“Thanks.” Her eyes widened as she handed me my coffee.
“Sorry, I know that’s the last thing you need to be thinking about.”
Neither of us spoke for a few minutes. Our gazes traveled around the room, meeting every so often, each holding the other’s for a second or two before moving on again. I marveled at how ignorant I was to her beauty, especially with her hair wet and combed back, falling to the sides. That smell, too. Like an angel recently descended.
She lifted her mug to her mouth, but stopped about an inch short. Her lips formed a smile.
“What?” she said.
“What what?” I said.
“You’re staring.”
“I was?”
She rolled her eyes and took a drink. “Anyway, you have that postcard on you? The one from your son?”
I reached into my pocket and traced the edge of the thick card stock. “Sure do.”
“I’d like to see it again.”
Would she find something different now, considering what she’d been through today? Did the chaos have an effect on her where it cleansed her palette, so to speak?
I pulled out the postcard and set it on the table. My fingertips lingered on top, at around the middle where Robbie wrote my name. Cassie reached out. Her fingers grazed mine. We glanced at each other, our gazes steady for a moment. I don’t know who looked away first.
She slid the postcard toward her, stopping at the edge of the tabletop and laying her hand over it. I looked up again. She’d closed her eyes. Her breathing was rhythmic, slow and steady. In through her nose, out through her mouth. Her French roast-scented breath washed past me.
What did she see? Hear? Feel at that moment? Robbie’s laughter? It rang out clear as any day I’d heard it in my ears. Me and him and Ella Kate, playing on the floor. Wrestling. They were winning. Had me pinned down.
“May I?” she asked, her thumb and forefinger pinching the corner.
“Of course.” My heart pounded. Had she heard something that left her unsure? Would holding it, reading it, help?
The house ticked with every second that passed over the course of five long minutes. Cassie barely moved. She was so deep in her trance, it looked as though she’d stopped breathing. I didn’t dare move out of fear of bringing her back to this world. What if she’d made contact? What if she was unlocking the secret? I questioned myself for asking those questions, but to hell with it. I had no other hope outside of Cassie.
She took a deep, loud breath. Opened her eyes. She forced a smile as she set the postcard down again.
“Well?” I asked.
“Sorry,” she said. “There’s too much clutter. I can’t tell what’s going on right now, or where he is.”
“Clutter?”
She shrugged. “Don’t know how else to explain it. It’s like watching television through thick static. You can kind of see what’s happening, but it would be really easy to misinterpret it, too.”
“I got you. I figured it’s a long shot, anyway.” I tried to hide the disappointment from my expression. It wasn’t her fault, and I didn’t want her to feel like it was.
She reached for my hand. My skin tingled at her hot touch. “I’ll keep trying, Mitch. Maybe after this murder investigation is sorted, it’ll be easier for me.”
“I hope so.”
We both rose. I reached for the postcard. She reached for my hand again. We stood there for a moment, me looking at the table, her looking who knows where. I wrapped my fingers around hers, pulled her closer. I couldn’t place the smell of her skin. It was soft and herbal. Her hair, too. Her lips tasted of the coffee at first.
“We shouldn’t do this,” I said, pulling back.
“I know,” she said, leaning forward.
We kissed again. Our hands traveled along the other’s body. She pulled me out of the kitchen and into her room, where we retreated to her bed.