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Story: Ghostly Dilemma (Ghostly #8)
Lance walked into the front office of the morgue where he worked as a medical examiner. He grinned at their new receptionist as he set her chef salad down on the corner of her desk. "Just as requested. Extra ranch dressing is in the bag."
"You are a lifesaver." Gretta stood and hugged him. "Thank you." She pushed her wavy brown hair back from her face as she sat back down. "I'm starving, but I've got so much to do here." She waved her hand at her computer.
"It wasn't a problem, but I don't like that you aren't taking a lunch break. You don't need to stay stuck at your desk all day." Lance took a drink of the soda he'd brought back from his own lunch.
Gretta had been working at the Medical Examiner's Office for several weeks now. She was a great fit with the group, and her office skills were beyond what was expected. She was making changes to their system that they hadn't even known they needed. Things were running smoother than ever thanks to her.
After the disasters the previous hires had been, Gretta stepped into the job as if she'd been doing it her whole life. Newly divorced, she'd moved to Fairway to be closer to her sister, Detective Amy Burns. When Amy heard the morgue was looking for someone to run the front office, she suggested her sister apply. It was the best thing that ever happened.
"I'm hardly stuck at my desk. I've been working on a new inventory spreadsheet to make reordering easier. I've been back and forth from the supply room to my desk so many times I won't even need to take my nightly run tonight if I don't want to." Gretta pushed her keyboard aside and pulled the salad to her.
"You run?" Carrie walked into the office.
"Almost every night. Just a few miles, but it helps me clear my head along with keeping me in shape." Gretta smiled at the young assistant who usually helped Lance through each autopsy.
"So do I." Carrie pulled up a chair to sit beside Gretta's desk. "My boyfriend and I run a lot of marathons. We usually get in a few miles every night and more on the weekends."
"I'll leave you two to talk about running." Lance waved. "Something I know nothing about."
"Thanks again for lunch." Gretta held up her iced tea in salute.
"Any time." Lance wandered down the hallway toward his office. He had time for at least one more autopsy, maybe two if things weren't complicated.
"Lance," Jeremy, the ghost who haunted the morgue called as Lance was about to turn in to his office.
Lance glanced back, no longer surprised when ghosts popped up to talk to him. He'd gained the ability to speak to ghosts a little over a year ago. After some panic and confusion, speaking to ghosts was now a common part of his life. Jeremy had died young. He'd been twenty-four when he'd suffered a massive heart attack while skateboarding. Lance had done his autopsy while the ghost hovered over his shoulder, watching. While Lance wouldn't speak to ghosts with others around, he didn't mind when he was alone in his office. Jeremy had stuck around, and a quick friendship had formed between them. Now Jeremy assisted on most autopsies. While the ghost was only seen by Lance and couldn't really do more than watch, he'd learned enough that he could often correctly diagnose a cause of death just by observing Lance's work. Today, Jeremy had another ghost standing beside him that Lance didn't recognize. He was an older man, probably in his eighties. His shoulders hunched a bit, and his ghostly hair was sparse atop his nearly bald head.
Lance waved them into his office, the one place he could talk openly with them without his co-workers thinking he was crazy and talking to himself. He shut the door and went to sit behind his desk as the two ghosts stepped through the wall and into his office. Lance looked at Jeremy. "What's up?" Jeremy appeared to be leaning against a file cabinet while the other ghost took a seat in front of Lance's desk.
"This is Scott Mayburn. He's up next on the autopsy list." Jeremy gestured to the ghost. "Go ahead and tell Lance what you want him to know."
The older ghost frowned. "How come you can see me? No one else can."
Lance shrugged. "Just lucky, I guess. I'm not sure why I get to see the dead, but others can't. There are a few people around like me, but not many."
Scott nodded. "Well, I've waited almost seventy years to tell someone this. I left a note in my home, but I'm not sure when anyone will find it, so when I met Jeremy, he suggested I tell you and you might be able to help."
"I can try." Lance leaned forward, resting his arms on his desk.
"Well, see, when I was around ten, my mother and father got in a huge fight. You have to understand, my father was a mean man. He drank too much and everyone who knew him was intimidated by him. My father killed my mother one night and buried her in our backyard. She was pregnant at the time. I don't know how far along, but I think she was close to giving birth. I remember her belly was huge. Anyway, my father told everyone that my mother had run off with her lover. He swore that baby wasn't his. I don't know if that was true or not, but to his dying day, Dad said Mom cheated on him. He made me lie about it too. I know it was wrong, but I was scared. I saw him kill her. I thought he'd do the same to me if I didn't do as he said. So, for years I kept his secret. When Dad died, I thought about telling someone the truth, but I was scared that I'd get in trouble for not coming forward sooner. I was in my late forties when Dad died, and in all those years, not a day when by that I wasn't scared of him."
Lance sat up straighter, pulling a pen and paper from his desk. "Let me make sure I'm following. Your father killed your mother when you were ten and buried her in your backyard. You kept the secret, even after your father died. You never told anyone?" Lance could hardly believe what he was hearing.
"That's about it." Scott shrugged. "I've struggled with the secret for years. I thought I could just let it die along with me, but the older I got, the guiltier I felt. She was my mother, and she deserved to have someone know the truth about what happened to her. So, I took the time to write everything down and left it with my will, but I'm not sure when anyone might look at that stuff."
"Do you have family? Kids who will read what you left them?" Lance asked.
"No, it was just me. There's no other family left. There's this kid down the street who always came over to keep me company and see if I needed anything. He's a good kid. I left everything to him, but he doesn't know that. My attorney has copies of everything to give him, and there are copies in the house, but I didn't think things through. I didn't tell anyone where the stuff was or who to contact when I died. I really didn't expect to go so soon." Scott appeared as if he was running his fingers through what little hair he had left.
"Okay, give me your full name and address." Lance figured he would pass the information on to his boyfriend, Detective Angus Young, and see what he could do about it.
Scott gave Lance everything he asked for. "Someone has to let Jared know I gave everything to him. He works so hard, but still made time for me. I hate he was the one to find my body, but then again, I knew he would be. He was the only one to stop by and see me every few days."
Lance felt for the older man. He saw too many come through the morgue who hadn't had anyone to find them. Many would lay in their homes, dead for days or even weeks before someone reported having not seen them or smelled something foul coming from the house. "How old is Jared?"
"I think he's nineteen. His mamma died last year, and he takes care of his little brother now." Scott smiled. "They're good boys."
Lance ignored the pain he felt at hearing that. His own brother had been about the same age when he'd taken over custody of Lance. At fifteen, Lance could have ended up in foster care if his brother hadn't stepped in.
"I just don't want Jared to have to deal with the body in the yard. That's why when I learned I could stick around as a ghost, I was hoping I could find someone to help me. I wandered around a bit, trying to talk to people, but it wasn't until I got here with my body that Jeremy told me about you." Scott grinned at Jeremy. "He said you'd know what to do."
"I'm not sure I know what to do, but I know people who should. I need you to stick around a while. Don't go into that light you see. Once you go into it, we won't be able to speak any longer. For now, if you don't mind, just hang around with Jeremy or head home and see what's going on there. I'll make some phone calls and see what we can do to help you." Lance had no clue what Angus would have to do to follow up on this. "One question, how did you die?"
"I'm not sure. I was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking my morning coffee when I got a sharp pain in my head. I felt like I was going to vomit, then everything went black. A bit later, I was standing beside my body. It was slumped over the table. Spilled my coffee everywhere." Scott sighed. "It was two days before Jared came over to visit and found me."
"Sounds like a stroke, but we'll know for sure once I get done with your autopsy." Lance looked at Jeremy. "You said he's next up?"
"Yeah, he came in this morning as an unattended death," Jeremy told him.
"Good, then we'll get his autopsy out of the way. That will help get things moving. But first, I want to give Angus a call and let him know about this. I'm not sure he'll be able to do anything today, but he'll know who to tell if he can't handle it." Lance reached for his cell phone and hit Angus's name. He only had to wait two rings to hear his voice.
"You calling to ask me out for dinner tonight?" Angus asked as a greeting.
"I could be. It's been a while since we've been out. You off early enough?" Lance asked.
"If I say yes, I might jinx it, but as of now, things are looking good. I thought maybe we could rush home, change, and maybe get a table at The Stockyard."
"Isn't this you asking me out?" Lance laughed. "Steak sounds great."
"Good. I'll call and make reservations for seven. Other than that, how's your day?"
"Like you, I don't want to jinx it, but so far so good." Lance looked at the ghost sitting in front of his desk. "I do have something unusual to talk to you about. I have a ghost here who claims his father killed his mother around seventy years ago and buried her in his backyard. Told everyone she'd run off with her lover. Scott, the ghost here now, was maybe ten when it happened. He says he left a letter telling the story in his house, but he's not sure how long it will take people to find it. It's complicated, but is there anything you can do about a murder that long ago?"
"Yeah, we can look into it. What about his family? Won't they go through his things?"
"No family alive. He left his property to a neighbor, but never told the neighbor he was doing that. So as of right now, we have a neighbor finding Scott dead in his kitchen and no one to claim the house or property inside. If we can get to his will, the neighbor can take over handling things. Scott did say his attorney has copies of his will, but as of right now, probably doesn't know Scott's passed on." Lance grimaced at the complexity of what he was trying to explain.
"I have a million questions, but for now, get me the ghost's name, his parents' names, where the murder happened, where the body is buried, and the name of his attorney. I'll do some investigating, and then tomorrow, I'll come in and sit down with the ghost and you to fill in any blanks. If this happened seventy years ago, one more night isn't going to hurt anything," Angus said.
"Sounds good. I'll text you the info in a few. Thanks for the help."
"Any time. You know I don't mind. If this is an old cold case, it will be good to figure it out. Does this ghost's death look suspicious?"
"I'm about to start his autopsy, but no, I don't think so. I'll know for sure in a few hours. I need to get busy, but I'm looking forward to tonight." Lance wanted to sit and talk more, but if they were going out, he had even more motivation to finish up at work and get home.
"So am I. See you in a few hours. Love you," Angus said.
"Love you too." Lance ended the call, then focused on the ghosts. "Angus will be here tomorrow to talk to you. Well, you'll talk to me since he can't hear or see you, but he'll ask the questions. As for now, let's get your autopsy done. Once we show it was a natural death, we'll be able to release the body for burial once someone is ready to claim you."
"My attorney has all those plans. Someone just needs to let him know I'm dead." Scott got up.
"We'll figure that all out. Wait one sec. I need to send Angus your info. Tell me your mother and father's names and where they lived."
"Russ and Myrtle Mayburn. Same address as where I lived. I moved into Dad's home after he died. I wanted to be close to Mom." Scott sighed. "I know it makes no sense, but I didn't want her to think I forgot about her."
"Understandable." Jeremy straightened. "I'd do the same thing in your shoes."
"What's your attorney's name?" Lance asked.
"Walter Thomas. He's got everything. He'll know what mortuary to contact and the plot information for the cemetery. He'll also let Jared know that I've left everything to him. I know it will be a lot of work for the kid, but he's renting now. He can move into my home once he cleans it up and that will save him a ton of money." Scott floated toward the door. "Let's go get my autopsy done. Sounds like you have a date, and I don't want to be the one to keep you from it."
"It's nothing fancy. Just dinner. But it's been a long time since the two of us went out alone. We've been so busy that we're lucky to eat together at home." He didn't want to say it out loud, again worried he'd jinx it, but the last few days had been nice with them both getting home around the same time and being able to sit together and watch TV without the phone ringing .
Even the ghosts who lived with them were away. Lance wasn't sure where they'd gone this time, but he thought he'd heard Bethany trying to remember words from her high school French class. They'd probably headed to France or one of the countries near there. He had no idea when they'd be back, but was sure at some point they'd return home. He liked that the ghosts considered his place home. Ray had become his best friend, other than Angus of course. It was nice having friends around, and he found time to spend with Angus alone. It was just work that seemed determined at times to keep them apart.
Lance stuck his head in the breakroom where his assistant was finishing lunch. "I'm going to head in and get the next one prepped. Take your time and finish. We're in no hurry today." Lance smiled at Carrie. He was so glad to have her back working beside him. She'd been covering the front desk for the last few months because they couldn't seem to hire anyone who'd work out. But now, with Gretta here, things were back to normal, or as normal as they ever got in the morgue.
"No worries. I'm almost done. I'll be in." She waved as she took the last bite of her sandwich.
"Just so you know, once Lance is outside his office, he won't talk to us. So don't go getting upset if you ask him something and he ignores you. Not many people know he can see us," Jeremy told Scott.
"No, I guess that wouldn't be something you could share. They'd probably lock you up somewhere in one of those white jackets." Scott wrinkled his brow. "Do they even still use those things?"
"They do," Jeremy said excitedly. "I saw a documentary on them right before I died. They are mostly used now for out-of-control patients or prisoners. Not so much in the mental hospitals like we see in movies. Though, sometimes, they're used there as well."
"I didn't know that," Lance whispered as he put on his gown and gloves.
"See, I might be young, but I'm not dumb." Jeremy laughed at his own joke.
Lance rolled his eyes, but grinned. Life around the morgue was never boring. He almost wished the others could see Jeremy, because he was fun to have around. It was a shame Lance was the only one that knew he was around.
Forcing his mind to turn from fun stuff to work, Lance pulled out Scott Mayburn's body. Despite having a good idea from the ghost what killed him, Lance would still do a full work up on the body, making sure that the cause of death was natural. Preparing himself to work on a body that had been exposed for several days, Lance pulled up his mask and got to work.