Ghost 3
I led her to the restroom near the back exit hoping we'd be left alone. She barged through me and into the room, checked every stall, then turned a steely eye on me.
"Stop acting like an imbecile and tell me what you saw."
"Imbecile? Me? I have been unseen and unheard for six years. What am I supposed to do with my time, huh? I guess you know what it's like, seeing as how you're a ghost, too. Oh, wait. You're not a ghost. Sorry. I'd slap myself up side my head if I only had one."
Snappy come backs I'd never been known for, but I leaned into this one and shrieked the words in her face. To her credit, she didn't so much as step back. Instead, she held her hands out as if she was ready to sing "Stop in the name of love."
She blew out a long breath and said we should start over.
I crossed my non-existent arms across my also non-existent chest and said, "Not until I get an apology." I added a tapping non-existent foot for good measure.
She rolled her eyes, mumbled, "Why me?" leaned toward me and did her best imitation of the early Steve Martin's "Excuse me."
Remember how I said earlier I'd never been able to affect the physical realm? Well, I guess I'd never been that angry. Because all the stall doors began opening and slamming while toilet paper rolls began spinning and the automated hairdryers started blowing for all they were worth. This annoying woman sttod still, hand on hips, while havoc rained down around her. When my anger cooled I admitted to myself that she was danged rad, but I'd never let her know I thought as much.
She blew a syrip of toilet paper off her bangs and said, "Can we talk now?"
I'd been hanging around the light fixtures over the sinks. If I had breath I would have huffed. I drifted to the floor but said nothing.
After a pregnant pause, she said, "I'm Detective Scalise and am sorry to hear that you've been isolated for so long. Of course, I had no idea when I began this disaster of a conversation. Could you please tell me what you know about the murder?"
All this was said through a tightly clenched jaw. I did notice that she did not apologize but decided to let it go. I wanted to get her out of my way, so I could figure out how I moved things in the physical world. Quite spectacularly, too.
"I saw nothing. I know nothing." Call me Schultz, but it was the truth.
"Come on," she said.
"Do not call me a liar," I screeched.
"OK, OK. Let me get this straight. Were you here when the murder took place?"
"How would I know? I found out about it during the morning meeting like everyone else." I simulated her stance, hands on hips, glaring eyes, downturned mouth.
Something happened then. Detective Scalise burst put in laughter. She pointed her finger at me and bent over gasping for breath. At first I only glared at her. But eventually her mirth infected me, and I began to giggle. I hadn't giggled for so long I had forgotten how it felt. When we sobered up, Santos went into a stall and blew her nose.
"Look, we got off to an awful start. Can we begin again?"
I nodded and perched on the edge of a sink.
"You start, Scalise," I said.
"I'm Detective Camilla Scalise, but call me Cami. And you are?"
I had to think. "When I was alive, they called me Lizzie." I really wished I could scratch my head.
"Ah, Elizabeth? Are you all right?" Cami's glare had become a sympathetic, questioning face."
"Yeah. Why?"
"Cause, I think you just got paler."
"I can't remember my last name. I, I don't know if I was Elizabeth, Lizzette. Maybe I was Elisabet." My mind raced. I was having a panic attack. I wanted to hyperventilate, but I was a danged ghost who couldn't even do that. I was a failure.
Cami said, "Calm down. I will help you figure it all out. I promise. It's kind of my side hustle. But first, I have a murder to solve. Will you help me?"
Through my panic, I caught onto her promise to help me. My non-existent pulse slowed down. Maybe she could get me out of the museum.