Page 23 of A Midsummer Night's Ghost

“Undetermined death but already moved on.”

I stared at him. “Then why is his ghost still here?”

“Because he onlythinkshe hasn’t moved on. That’s why he can see me. But he hasn’t moved on because he’s holding himself up. He’s still in the waiting room, so to speak. Because he’s not paying attention.”

“Isn’t there like a kiosk he can check into? Figure out what hallway he’s supposed to go down?”

“Not until we figure out what caused his death.”

“You said homicide, but now you’re saying undetermined. There is no way for me to figure that out. I’m not the medical examiner.”

Jake was clearly listening, but he was also rearranging the food in the cabinet. It always unnerved him to see me talking to what appeared to him as thin air. I understood the coping mechanism.

“Get me a look at the autopsy report,” Ryan said. “We need to get this sorted out because this guy is driving me crazy. He follows me around holding his fingers out like a cross. I haven’t slept in three days.”

“Ghosts sleep?” Grandma asked. “That’s interesting.”

“More of a figure of speech.”

“Why is holding his fingers out like a cross?”

“He thinks Ryan is a demon.”

“Oh, sure, sure.” She nodded like that was a no-brainer.

“Not sure,” Ryan protested. “Grandma, you know I’m not a demon.”

Now she was Grandma to him?

“I know, dear. But death is scary. You just need to be patient with James and hold his hand through this transition. That’s your job.”

Jake sighed into the cabinet.

I think he was wishing we’d gone out dancing instead.

Ryan sighed too, running his hands through his hair. “You’re right. But patience was never really my thing, you know that.”

“I certainly do.”

Ryan shot me a look. “Not helpful, Bai.”

“You’re not being helpful to me, either. I’m kind of busy right now.” I gestured to our disastrous box-filled mid century museum we called a house. “I have a lot on my plate, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“This house really is ugly,” he said.

“Thank you for repeating yourself. Just tell me what I’m supposed to do. I already talked to James’s wife and she clearly didn’t know he was even dead, so she didn’t kill him. He has three other ex-wives, but I feel like if they wanted him dead, they would have done it a long time ago. And the weird guy at the bar has no name.”

Even if he did, I was feeling contrary right now with Ryan. He was not being a particularly good friend at the moment, dead or not, and I felt mildly (a lot) petulant.

I put Grandma’s tea down in front of her.

She held it up to Ryan’s nose so he could take a deep sniff, his eyes closed, face a picture of human longing.

Which made me feel guilty.

“Fine. I’ll see about the autopsy report. But stay out of our bedroom.”

Ryan gave a wink, clearly recovered. “You’re the best. Have a boring weekend—oh, wait, you already are.”

---