Page 35 of The Accidental Ghost

Ralph was quick to soothe, too, using the tone she’d always used when one of her students became worked up. “It’s okay. Please. I promise, no one will hurt you, but I really need your help. Can you tell me who wants me? Do you know?”

He recoiled when she asked, then he reared upward, the bottom half of his body becoming a wispy trail of smoke. “Bad! He’s so bad. Don’t let him get you!”

Her stomach dropped at his fear.

“Don’t listen to this chicken little! He’s afraid of everything,” another voice crowed, followed by cackling laughter.

The man withered in his chair when he saw who the voice came from. His pudgy face almost melting, shimmering, becoming more transparent, before disappearing completely.

But Ralph was too busy looking at the woman standing behind Marty to fret much over his absence. She was an older woman, but it was clear that in life, she’d taken great care of herself.

Her skin, though wrinkled, was soft and glowing, beyond just her ghostly aura. She wore a chic pantsuit in white, with a patterned zebra shirt, the collar popped, the thick cuffs of her blazer rolled up her arms, with several gold chains around her neck, swaying gracefully down her chest.

Her almost-white hair, cut in a trendy bob that grazed her jawbone, swung forward while her eagle eyes peered at Ralph behind gold and black square glasses almost bigger than her face.

Shamus cocked his head, but that was his only reaction. “May I ask who are you, ma’am?” he asked.

Her face lit up like a Christmas tree. “You can see me, handsome? Must be my lucky day.” She winked at him.

“There’s another one here, for shit’s sake?” Nina said, instantly on alert.

The ghost scoffed. “Tell the supermodel I’m not just another one. I’m the one.” Her voice was cultured and growly, her words succinctly crisp.

Shamus smiled at her, a smile sure to woo any woman. “The one what? The one with some answers? The one who can help us? Because we’re in a real pickle, here, Ms…?”

She grinned, her crimson lips curving upward. “The name’s Drucinda Perry, and I’m the one who can get you information if you need it. I’ll be your afterlife spy, gorgeous. Maybe I can find out who that chump Horatio was talking about? For a price, that is.”

Why did her name sound so familiar? “Your price?” Ralph asked.

Her grin only became wider. “Yep. You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours. You up for a little game of scratchy-scratch?”

Shamus grinned, a jaunty eyebrow raised. “How about you tell us what kind of game we’re playing, and we’ll talk?”

Drucinda smiled, her piercing blue eyes flirtatious as she wagged a long, elegant finger with a shiny red-tipped nail. “Then step into my office…” she growled playfully.

“The fuck I was gonna let you two nuts go alone, because who knows who the hell is looking for the Glow Stick,” Nina complained. “You need my muscle. I damn well shoulda known there was some kinda bullshit danger behind you showin’ up in my house. It was too easy to just figure out what the hell kinda ghost you are and send you on your merry way. It’s never that damn easy.”

Ralph shrugged at Nina, standing under the glow of the half moon. “But look at all you’ve learned about ghosts. I’m like the Discovery Channel. Where else can you get this kind of hands-on experience?”

Nina drove her hands into the pockets of her hoodie. “I have plenty of damn hands-on experience, Glow Stick. I don’t need any more. And where the hell is this model guru anyway? It sure would be a fuck of a lot easier if you’d throw that fairy dust on the swanky bitch so I can see her.”

Drucinda had told Shamus under no circumstances was he to sprinkle her with fairy dust. It would get in her hair and ruin her vintage Armani pantsuit.

Now, the ex-model wrangler gave a throaty laugh at Nina’s words. “Tell the flawless supermodel she missed her calling. If she’d been a smart girl, she’d have walked the runway for ten years then retired to her own private island under my tutelage. If I’d discovered her, she’d have made us millions by the truckloads.”

That’s why Ralph had recognized her name. Drucinda Perry had owned a famous modeling agency where every supermodel who ever walked the catwalk came calling, seeking fame and fortune.

According to Google, she’d died a year ago, leaving behind her ultra-successful modeling agency, piles and piles of money, and a legacy that couldn’t be denied. The articles about her said she was tough but fair, and she was still missed to this day.

When Ralph relayed Drucinda’s message, Nina made a face. “Fuck her and her ridiculous clothes. I’d rather be dead than wear some damn plastic garbage bag and bilk bitches out of thousands of dollars for some shit they can’t leave their house in without people pointing and laughing at ’em.” Then she paused and laughed. “Oh, and wait. I am fucking dead, and I’m rich. So she can piss off.”

Nina’s words didn’t deter Drucinda at all. She sighed as though the vampire had evoked a fond memory. “It was always the most beautiful who were the most difficult, but they were also the most profitable.”

Ralph whispered up at Nina, “She thinks you’re beautiful anyway. Now, let’s get down to business.”

They were outside a place called Beautiful Crossroads Hospice Care, where there was someone Drucinda wanted Ralph to talk to.

Ralph, her hands clammy (how was that possible as a damn ghost?), had agreed, but only because Drucinda promised to poke around the afterlife and find them some information about who was after Ralph and why.

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