Chapter 3
“It is ten o’clock in the morning and is a bright sunny day. Be sure to wear a sweater when you go outside for it is a bit chilly. Now, I believe it is time to get your lazy butt out of bed!”
I groaned as I rolled over onto my side. I opened my eyes. Rachel stood over me. “Oh, no,” I said, “It wasn’t a dream?”
“Sorry sweet cheeks,” said Rachel, “But it all happened.”
Ten o’clock, I thought. My class! I bolted out of bed and then realized that I had no classes today. I stood up and went to the bathroom. “I have to get to work and I don’t need your assistance in the shower.”
“I’m not into that kinky stuff.” Rachel glanced down at my bare legs. “However, you might want to shave those hairy things before your date tonight.”
I slapped my forehead. That’s right I had a date and, no, I hadn’t shaved for several weeks. It was too much work and I preferred jeans anyway. I grabbed a towel and slammed the door in Rachel’s face. “Good-bye,” I said to her.
The Candle Shoppe was a nice little store. Despite its name, it had more than just candles. There were accessories, books, scent warmers, incense, and even handmade scarves. The soft lighting in the place provided a calm atmosphere for shopping. I loved it. It was much better than the harsh light of florescent bulbs. Candles littered the place with their flames. A great way to showcase the product.
The manager’s name was Harvey Stilton. I just called him Mr. Stilton. He gave me a nametag, I filled out some paperwork, and he explained my duties. Jackie was already there helping customers. My job was managing the cash register, assisting customers, and restocking shelves.
My first day at work remained uneventful for the most part. At least it did until Rachel showed up. I had an hour to go before my shift ended and she popped in.
“Hey,” she said as she appeared next to me. Her voice startled me causing me to send the tea lights in my hands flying across the store. I quickly retrieved them.
“What are you doing here,” I hissed at her.
“I just wanted to know how your first day at work is going,” replied Rachel.
“I’m trying to work,” I cut myself off as a couple people walked by. They looked at me strangely. My smile did little to assure them that I wasn’t crazy. “You can’t just show up when it pleases you. Now go away.”
“All right, fine,” said Rachel. “I just thought you’d like to know that that guy over there is trying to make off with a bunch of merchandise.” She disappeared.
I glanced over at the man she had pointed out. Sure enough, he stuffed his pockets with candles and incense. Figures. My first day and I get a shop lifter. I walked over to the man. “Hey,” I said, “You going to pay for that?”
He shoved me out of the way and bolted for the door. I tried going after him, but was too slow and ended up tripping over my own feet. Rachel appeared at the entrance and kicked him in the gut. The guy doubled over allowing me to grab him.
“What’s going on here,” demanded Mr. Stilton as he walked out of his office.
“Shoplifter,” I said.
“Really?” Mr. Stilton emptied the man’s pockets. “Go on get out of here,” he said to the man. “If you ever come back here I’ll call the cops.”
The guy ran out the door. No doubt he was still wondering what hit him.
“You’re welcome,” said Rachel as she disappeared again. I was beginning to regret coming to Vermont.
Later that evening I prepared for my date. Greg picked me up. I borrowed Jackie’s floral, knee-length skirt and paired it with my new blouse and jacket she had bought me. I must admit, it looked good. The Mexican place was an outdoor restaurant. Despite the chill, we managed to stay fairly warm thanks to the heating lamps they had.
“So,” said Greg, “Back story.”
“You go first,” I said.
“As I’ve said, I’m thirty and decided to finally go to college. I moved here a year ago and am studying criminology.”
“Which explains why you are taking a video editing class.”
“That is an elective I chose to take to fill some credits. And it’s an easy A.”
“Ah,” I said, “I am hoping to be an independent film maker. Hence, why I am in Mr. Vincent’s video editing class.”
“So the great Mellow Summers wishes to be an Oscar nominee.”
“I was thinking more of an Oscar winner,” I said.
The waiter brought our food. I dug into mine immediately after realizing how hungry I really was.
“I like a girl with a healthy appetite,” said Greg. He watched me stuff a burrito in my mouth. Suddenly, I blushed. So much for first impressions.
“Can you tell me anymore about this Rachel?” I asked.
“Why do you want to know? You aren’t saying your place is haunted are you?”
“There’s just been little things,” I said hoping to brush aside his comments. Now that Rachel seemed to be making a habit of showing up wherever I was, I wanted to know more about her.
“There isn’t much to tell,” said Greg. “She kept to herself mostly. However, she did like to frequent the bars. Especially this one place on the corner of Rhinestone and Main. It’s called Zappy’s.”
“Zappy’s?”
“Yeah. Strange name I know, but very popular among the college crowd. There were many times she came home drunk and I’d have to help her unlock her door. But all that started to change when she met Tom. She stopped going to parties and stayed with him all the time.
“Her death really is a mystery. No one knows who would want to kill her. The cops focused on Tom at first, but with a lack of evidence, they had to let him go.”
“Do you think he did it?” I asked.
“No,” replied Greg, “He was a nice guy. Full ride scholarship and he worked at the local coffee shop. When he received the news of Rachel’s death, it devastated him. When everything quieted down he left. Too many people thought he did it and the damage had been done. Once labeled a suspect, it stays with you.”
“I suppose it does. So, you never knew Rachel?”
“Not really well. Like I said, I saw her a few times and helped her into her apartment when she came home wasted, but we were more acquaintances. She seemed like a really nice girl, and, like I said, she did stop her drunken homecomings after meeting Tom. After that they were inseparable.
“For the most part Rachel kept to herself. Though there was this one night she came home in a panic.”
“Panic?” I hoped the intrigue in my voice went unnoticed.
“It seemed that way. I remember her running to her apartment door. Her hair was frazzled and her clothes were disheveled. Her hands shook, too. I remember that because she had difficulty getting the key into the lock. I helped her open her door and asked if there was anything I could do. She said ‘no’ and so I left her alone.”
“What happened after that?”
“Before I closed the door to my apartment, I overheard her try to call Tom. Apparently, she had gotten his voicemail because she left a hurried message. Then she ran out of her apartment got in her car and left.”
“What was the message?”
“The bit I heard was something about her catching something on camera. Something horrible and she needed Tom’s help. She did mention that she was headed to the computer lab on campus. That was the last time I saw her. The next morning I learned that she had been killed.”
“Her camera?”
“Yeah,” said Greg, “She was taking the video editing class as an elective as well. Apparently making short movies was a hobby of hers. Anyway, her camera was never found and there was no evidence to indicate who killed her. Of course, the cops were so focused on Tom that I don’t think they even looked at anybody else. Though there was a Detective Shorts—”
“Shorts?” I didn’t mean to interrupt, but the name sounded funny.
>
“Yeah. It is a funny name, but don’t tell him that. You don’t want to be on his bad side. He didn’t think Tom did it. In fact, he seemed to think that someone who worked at the college did. But again, there was no proof.”
“Too bad.”
“Why all the questions? Here we are on a date and all I’ve done is talk about a dead girl.”
I squirmed uneasily in my chair. Should I tell him that I spoke with Rachel’s spirit? It sounded so crazy that even I wasn’t sure I believed it. “Just a few strange things have happened in my apartment that’s all.”
Greg laughed. “You’re not going to tell me that you think your place is haunted.”
“I don’t know.” I wanted to end the conversation. This was only a first date and to tell Greg I was seeing a ghost wasn’t in the plan. “It’s getting late,” I said.
Greg agreed and asked for the check, which he paid. That impressed me. Afterward, he walked me home and dropped me off at my apartment. We didn’t kiss or anything. In fact, we just said good-bye.
After I let myself in, I slumped down on the couch. I had a real mystery on my hands. You know, that thing you mostly read about in novels or watch on TV. I felt like Jessica Fletcher from Murder She Wrote. I just couldn’t stop thinking about it. Why was Rachel afraid? What was she running from? And who killed her? Then it occurred to me that I had all the answers at my fingertips.
“Rachel,” I whispered.
“How was the date?” She appeared on the couch beside me.
“It was great,” I replied.
“Did you kiss?”
“Uh, no.”
She let out an exasperated sigh. “Going to play hard to get. I don’t get you.”
I shook my head. The conversation was not going where I wanted it to. “Rachel,” I said, “Who killed you? I mean, what happened that night you died?”
I thought she might be upset at my abruptness, but instead she seemed pleased that someone asked. “I don’t know,” she said.
“You don’t know?”
“I can’t remember. People think that when you die you suddenly know everything. But that didn’t happen to me. I remember bits and pieces, but nothing substantial. Mostly I remember being scared and running for my life. And then I ended up here. People went right past me. They couldn’t see me or hear me.”
“Why is it I can see you?” I really wanted to know why I suddenly became Jessica Love-Hewitt from Ghost Whisperer.
“I learned much later that I can decide who sees me and who doesn’t. But I also learned that most people pretend not to see ghosts. Either that or they are so wrapped up in their own life that they ignore everything that doesn’t immediately affect them.
“Some of the people who lived here before you saw me. But they either passed it off as being crazy or they just ran away scared. I wasn’t trying to scare anyone. I just wanted to be heard. I also want to know what happened to me. But I need someone living to help.”
“But you can go anywhere you want and spy on people,” I said.
“But I can’t talk to them. I’m not sure why I’m able to talk to you. It could be because you haven’t run off scared yet. Will you help me?”
I sighed. I wanted to. And I was curious. The fact that her murder has remained unsolved meant that that the real killer was still at large. I shuddered at the thought. “I don’t know.”
“Please,” she begged, “I need to know what happened.”
I sat silent for a while. I did want to know what happened to her. But I also didn’t want to do anything to ruin my new start in life. In the end, I relented. “Yes, I’ll help. But you have to promise to quit showing up unannounced.”
“Yay,” squealed Rachel jumping up and down.
A part of me felt that I would regret this.