Chapter 9

“Someone’s knocking,” Ida said outside the bathroom door.

“Two minutes!” While Gabriel was almost done washing up, he was only at four minutes—and one had to make the best use of six.

“I really think you should answer.”

“Fine.” He tossed a towel away, pulled on a deep purple shirt, and opened the door. “Someone should fix that doorbell,” he said as he bound down the stairs, with Ida following.

From the covered-up cough behind, he assumed what the problem was. “Was it you?”

“The wire that connects to it is so snug. Wonderful to haunt. They fixed it before, but I can’t help it.” Ida glided toward the living room. “She’s waiting. I need to go back to the garden—there’s a ladybug!”

She?

Gabriel opened the door as Ida disappeared through a wall. One of the Schuyler Sisters waited on the porch. Yellow dress, library—Marge! “Morning, Marge.”

“Mr. Buren.” Sporting a wide smile, Marge shook his hand like one would a president’s. She waited.

Gabriel waited. “Is there something you need?”

“Since you asked, I was hoping you could help me. You being a lawyer and all that.”

“Like I said, I’m not currently practicing.” He could lose his license for good if he offered her advice and word of this got back to court.

“Oh, but, it’s just a simple matter. It’s about Rex. See, he’s behaving strangely. He doesn’t like to eat what I make him, and he keeps sleeping on the couch despite me telling him not to do so. And the other day, I was—well, perhaps I used a slightly strict tone with him, and he ran right onto the street, could’ve been hurt!”

“Rex is your dog?”

Marge blinked. “My husband.”

“Yes. Of course. You’re having marital issues.”

“Well, I…” Marge needlessly straightened the shawl collar of her dress. “I wouldn’t say marital issues.”

“Then why do you need me?”

“Because you’re good at these things. I read that most lawyers try to solve disputes between clients before they have to go to court, because trials are expensive. So maybe you could talk to Rex…”

“I’m not a marriage counselor. But I—” He was about to say he knew a good one, a former client of his, only he couldn’t. Not here.

“But you will help us?” Marge asked, her beady eyes hopeful.

“Look.” He used his comforting one-hand-on-the-shoulder move. “I can’t do any official services for you, I’m sorry.” A shame, too—he could use her help with finding Ida’s grave.

He hated being suspended. Couldn’t work properly, live properly, and ironically, couldn’t even take a proper vacation.

Just keep it up for another 156 days.

“All right.” Marge gave him a tiny nod of defeat. “Thought I’d ask. But no worries—”

“Wait.” Gabriel ran to the living room, grabbed his phone and returned to Marge. He scrolled to the email with the ski resort voucher. “How about this?”

Marge squinted at the screen. “Well, it is a lovely picture of the sunset in the mountains, but I don’t see how it’s going to help me.”

“The offer.” His vacation with Wynona. Gabriel ignored the invisible band that tightened around his chest and forced himself to continue. “Why don’t you and your husband take the week off? Go on vacation, relax? It’s on me.”

“But this is a very fancy ski resort.”

“And they have a fantastic sauna.” He winked. “Half an hour in there and you two will feel like newlyweds.”

Marge blushed. “I couldn’t possibly accept this.”

“Please do. It’ll only go to waste otherwise.” There’s been no word from Wynona or his bosses regarding the scandal, which must’ve meant he had to continue to lay low.

And try not to think of all the lost moments in the sauna.

“I’ll email it to you, together with a code you’ll need for the registration. Yes?”

Marge fixed the hold on her purse. “Thank you. But what about Rosalie? I can’t leave her alone.”

“Rosalie is your daughter?”

“My dog.”

“Right. Can you take her to a dog hotel? A friend?”

“There are no dog hotels nearby. Janice is allergic to dogs, and Dina’s husband hates them. I couldn’t possibly leave her in his house.” Marge sniffled. “What if Rex’s troubles are also connected to the dog? He hadn’t said anything when we got her, but you know how men are. Or what if it’s something worse? What if he’s doing cocaine, or whatever the popular thing is these days…”

Oh, no, no. He was so close to solving this. And getting a favor. “Marge. Marge.” Gabriel used a firmer version of the previous grip. “Your husband is fine. It’s only a little bump in the long road that is your marriage. You two need a break, so you can stop worrying and talk. Why…” Was he really going to say this? “Why don’t I take Rosalie for these few days? I love dogs.”

He didn’t care much about dogs—one could hardly have them in his city apartment.

“Would you? Oh, thank you, thank you!” Marge hugged him.

Gabriel glanced to the living room to make sure Ida was still outside. “May I ask for one small favor? Surely you have an archive in the library with data on the town’s past.”

This had better be worth it. And the dog had better be one of those hairless things—he wouldn’t allow it to shed all over his clothes.

“Oh, yes. Closed to the public.” Marge patted his hand. “Though I can take a peek. What do you need?”

Perfect.“I’d like you to find me a grave.”

***

“You got us a puppy!” Ida put her hands on her cheeks. She didn’t think she”d ever seen a cuter scene than Gabriel, holding what looked to be a miniature Lassie, with boxes upon boxes of dog stuff at his feet.

It was the puppy’s fault, of course—puppies made everything cuter.

“I didn’t.” Gabriel held the puppy away from him, then put it on the floor, as if not sure what one did with a dog. “This is Rosalie. She’s Marge’s dog, and she’s only spending a few days here while Marge is away.”

Oh. Well, that was still nice. Ida bent down and patted her knees. “Here, Rosie! Rosie!”

“Ida, you know she can’t—“

Rosalie twisted once, until she faced Ida, and sniffed the air. She made a few tentative steps toward her. Frozen in surprise, Ida waited. The puppy stopped no more than a foot before her. “She knows,” she whispered.

“She’s only exploring the living room.”

“Dogs have more senses than people. They can sense earthquakes. Cancer! Why couldn’t they sense ghosts?”

Gabriel sighed and started unpacking the boxes. “Marge gave me some food for Rosalie, but also a recipe on how to cook it, in case it’s not enough. Why someone would cook dog food is beyond me.”

“Of course, you barely cook human food,” Ida teased with joy. She kneeled next to Rosalie. “Good thing we taught him, huh? Wait till you see what Uncle Gabriel makes. You’re in for a chicken treat. Maybe he’ll even spoil you with a pozole.”

Rosalie twitched her tiny tipped ears. Ida tried not to squeal.

“What the hell is this?” Gabriel pulled out a small, transparent plastic umbrella. “Don’t say it’s for the dog. And…” From another box, he pulled what looked like the bottom half of a knapsack with a plastic handle. He turned the box on its head and read. “It’s a clip-on pet high chair. So the dog. Can eat. At the table.”

Ida laughed. Rosalie barked—a tiny, cute sound—and turned in a circle. “I think you need to take her out on a walk.”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

“Gabriel! You’re helping Marge. How happy do you think she’ll be if you don’t take proper care of her dog?” Ida crossed her hands over her chest. “It’s not like I can take her, can I?”

Gabriel shook his head but fished out a dog collar, anyway. “Haven’t been spoken to in that tone since sixth grade.”

Ida smiled. “You’ll have fun, you’ll see. Meanwhile, why don’t you open a dog-related website for me so I can read some tips.”

Gabriel did so, and Ida flickered into the laptop as he took Rosalie out. She’d never visited a dog site before. It felt like bouncing a ball outside, on a sunny weekend afternoon, with a slight hint of chocolate. Interesting, since dogs shouldn’t eat chocolate. Oh, she should warn Gabriel about that.

Something blinked in the corner of her conscience. An electronic message had popped up. She shouldn’t pry, she really shouldn’t, but… she was in the computer. She could already feel the message in her brain—all it took was one peek and…

It was from a woman named Wynona. Ida could only see her face in the profile picture, but there was no doubt of her beauty. Sleek dark hair, almond-shaped eyes with flawless eyeliner; sharp, but elegant cheekbones, the blush emphasizing them in just the right way—she was like a model from a magazine.

Hey, babe. I hope you’re doing fine. I know we said no contact, but I can’tstop thinking of you. Remember how we should be going to that ski resort in afew days? I’ll miss the sauna.

Ida knew that word, babe. It no longer meant a small child, not in this context. This woman was in love with Gabriel. And he was probably in love with her, too. With those looks, how couldn’t he be?

Another ping.

By the way, Harvey isn’t giving me any trouble and the media is quietaround here. I think it’ll soon be safe for you to return. When you do, I’m all yours!

And after a few more seconds:

If you can, call me.

Ida couldn’t cry in her normal ghost form, much less when haunting an object, but a strange feeling—something like her throat choking—still overcame her. Words blurred into pixels; pictures on the website distorted like color being washed away by rain.

Gabriel was going to leave.

He didn’t like being here—he missed work, he hated nature; now, on top of everything, he had to take care of a dog. And her. She’d forced this contract on him. This woman, his fancy apartment—that was his real life. And it should be understandable, and fine, but it wasn’t. She didn’t want him to leave.

Her half-scream, half-weep shook the cyber-reality around her. Don’t dothis. Don’t turn into your old self again. But she couldn’t stop; she screamed, and screamed, and screamed, and websites flickered and shattered like glass.

A sound from the outside brought her back to her senses. Good god, what had she done? The dog website had closed; but she opened it again, and all was well. She hadn’t done any damage.

Then she noticed the pop-up. Wynona’s messages were gone. Had she deleted them?

Oh, no, no.

She popped out of the laptop. Maybe this would be easier to sort out without her haunting it.

Gabriel shook off his coat in the hallway and stepped into the living room, Rosalie in tow.

Ida collected herself. “You look glum.”

“She peed,” Gabriel said, unimpressed.

“That’s what dogs do.”

“She peed on my shoe.”

Under normal circumstances, Ida would’ve laughed at that—especially with Gabriel’s annoyed expression—but the words from the message were still blinking in her head. She remembered everything she found out by haunting; she could repeat those three messages from Wynona word by word.

And Gabriel would leave.

“Are you okay?” Gabriel’s annoyance changed to worry. “I thought you’d laugh.”

Just like her alive-self knew the words the monster in her brain whispered to her weren’t real, weren’t sensible, ghost-Ida knew her thoughts were wrong. It was wrong to think anything of that almost-kiss, wrong to want Gabriel here when he should be somewhere else.

But just like she’d never been able to ignore the monster, she couldn’t ignore these thoughts, either.

“I…” she glanced at the computer and back at Gabriel. “I’m fine. Why don’t you go clean up, and I’ll watch over Rosalie? I’m certain she can sense me.”

Gabriel nodded and headed back to the hallway. At the last moment, he leaned back through the doorway. “By the way, find anything useful?”

“Not—nothing much. I think I accidentally crashed the website.”

“That’s okay. I can check it later.”

And then he was gone, and Ida asked Rosalie if she could keep still for about five minutes or so, as she went to haunt the deer statue and figuratively hit herself on the head.

***

Surprisingly, Gabriel survived the next two days with only one scratch on his arm and a chewed shoe. Once Rosalie got accustomed to him, she followed him everywhere. She’d be outside his bedroom door when he woke up; the tip-tapping of her tiny, fuzzy feet would follow him downstairs, like a dribble of rain on the roof. While he brewed coffee, she sat promptly and wiggled her tail. When he moved to the dining table, she went right along with him.

He caught Ida smiling a few times and brushed off her remarks of Rosalie being taken with him. But other times, he’d see a shadow pass Ida’s face, like she momentarily remembered something bad. He told her she had no reason to be jealous of the dog picking him over her—Rosalie followed whoever had the food or toys, and obviously, that would be Gabriel, but it didn’t seem to help.

One afternoon, he made a video call to Ollie to finalize his research for Jacobsky’s case and check how his paralegal was doing. Ollie could be a great big bundle of nerves sometimes, and by now, Gabriel had figured out efficient methods to get him back in tow.

“I do have Jacobsky’s report somewhere here…” Ollie stared down from the camera as he searched his computer. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Vane. I’ll find it right away.”

“Take it easy, Ollie. Six breaths, remember? Sort the folders by date…”

“Yes, sir.” Ollie ran a hand through his hair, leaving a few curls sticking up like springs. “It’s not that—well, it’s just—Mrs. Ashford-Abernathy is back again. She’s divorcing from her sixth husband and wants our services.”

Gabriel startled, almost throwing the laptop off his lap.

Triple damn. Mrs. Ashford-Abernathy was one of his best clients; her third husband was Gabriel’s first big win, the reason he came onto Clifford and Ernest’s radar. The old lady loved him (in a non-creepy, pinching-his-cheeks way) and requested him for her next two divorces, following neatly after three, then again three more years—how could Gabriel not appreciate that?

And now she was back, and he was suspended. “What did she say? Did they make any agreements yet?” Another great thing about Mrs. Ashford-Abernathy was her choice of husbands. They never went down easy, which meant a trial, which meant big money, but also big publicity. Great publicity, since Gabriel always won.

“I don’t know. She’s in with Mr. Ernest. I had to bring her eight coffees so far and she rejected every single one.”

A yet another reason why Gabriel, too, simply loved Mrs. Ashford-Abernathy.

“I think it’s going to be a long one, though,” Ollie continued. “I heard them say her latest husband is particularly problematic.”

It would probably take months for the trial to even start. Gabriel’s brain shifted into higher gear, pumped on a fresh mug of coffee. This could be his ticket back into the big leagues. Mrs. Ashford-Abernathy held lots of sway; if she stood behind him, so would everyone else. He only needed to win that case, clean of any scandal, and Clifford would practically shove the partner papers into his lap.

But first, he needed to get the case. “You’re right, Ollie. It will probably take months.” He rubbed his growing stubble. “Listen. Are you taking another coffee to her?”

“Yes. A New Orleans one, second try. I didn’t find the right chicory at first.”

“All right. When you do so, talk to them. Her and Ernest.”

“B-b-but, I don’t know if I dare to do that. Why don’t you call them?”

“If he’s in a meeting with her, he won’t answer. Now focus, and remember. Tell them I want the case. I know I can’t have it right now, but I’ll be back in five months. Let them get”—oh, who would be good?—“Crawford. He’s retiring soon—and it’ll just so happen that this case will drag on for so long he’ll have no choice but to give it to someone else.”

Ollie’s eyes darted around the empty office, and he leaned in. “You mean to take the case from him.”

“Ernest will know what I mean. Mrs. Ashford-Abernathy is our client because of me. Now go—”

Rosalie jumped onto the couch, stretched all the way up to his shoulders, and licked his ear. “Rosie, not now.”

“What is that, sir?”

“It’s called a dog. Rosie, please. We…” Gabriel sighed, extended a finger to show Ollie to wait a second, then rubbed Rosalie’s stomach. She rolled over, tilted her head to the side, and popped out her tongue. Gabriel continued to cuddle with one hand while he redirected his attention to Ollie.

“But even if you take the case then, you can’t work on it now. You won’t have enough time to prepare,” Ollie said.

“I can’t work on it properly, no. But I could do research.” Rosalie let out a pleased grunt, and Gabriel scratched some more. “Go and tell Ernest, quick. Tell him to call me and we’ll sort everything out.”

Ollie did his typical confused stammer, then nodded. “All right, sir. As you say.”

“Oh, and Ollie? Drop a pinch of salt into her coffee. She likes it that way.”

“Thank you, sir. You are an inspiration.”

The call ended, and Gabriel closed the laptop. “Yes, I am,” he murmured. Rosalie looked up. “I’ll get back yet, you’ll see,” he told her. “Uncle Gabriel is gonna be a rock star again, yes, he will. They’ll be eating out of my hand. Just like you are.”

A shadow passed at the edge of his vision. Ida stopped in the doorway. “Not a dog person, huh?”

“She’s lucky she found me in a good mood.” Gabriel tapped the laptop and put it on the coffee table. “An important client came to our firm. If I can get her case once I return, all the bad things will be forgotten. I’ll be right back where I belong.”

Ida nodded, but again, it was that strange, restrained nod, like she was only doing it for his sake.

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m fine.” Her voice was a little harsher than usual. “You needn’t worry about me. I’ll be just fine.” And she disappeared.

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