 CHAPTER 1 (section 2) copyright © 2001, S. Y. Affolee The sun was out in full force, bathing the buildings in a strong yellow light. The concrete hard and actively soaking in the sunshine. It would be an oven by mid-afternoon. There were no trees about, except for the small sad saplings that lined the streets in grates and cages. A few other people were about, mostly in suits and dresses, carrying briefcases, and oblivious to anything else around them. Simone was aware that Adrian had already caught up in his long loping strides and then shortened them to keep pace with her. She looked straight ahead when he began to speak. “A client is meeting us at Willard’s. I was pretty sure you were heading there so I went ahead to make the appointment.” “Yes, that was very sure of you,” she replied dryly. “Who is it?” “A Mrs. Edna Greenville.” “Ah. Why wasn’t I informed of this earlier?” “Well, she didn’t make an appointment with Danny first. She called me directly.” “Ah yes, wouldn’t want Danny to get all huffy about bypassing her.” From the corner she saw him grin. “You have a point. She is a bit tyrannical when it comes to that.” “Not like she does all that much,” she mumbled under her breath. Adrian pretended not to hear the comment. “Edna Greenville was recently widowed. Sixty-three years old with one son who is working at a biotech firm out in Ridgefield. Came into a lot of money but she’s planning to move in with a spinster sister in the northern part of town. She’s planning to put her house on sale, but she wants us to get rid of something there first.” “Get rid of what?” “A ghost.” “Oh yeah, we’re exorcists.” She rolled her eyes heavenward. “Or it could be an intruder, Edna Greenville wasn’t particular as long as we figure what it is and move it out.” “Open and shut case already. Ghost is a hallucination. Edna needs to take her medication on time. End of story.” “Simone. Just wait until you hear her story, okay?” He smiled a little. “Don’t judge so fast.” He was used to her caustic moods. Two blocks down was Willard’s, a trendy cafe that occupied the entire building. Outside, there was a dark green canopy overhang that sheltered a few tables that stood out in the sidewalk. All those tables were filled. Inside was cooler, though, and darker which Simone preferred. A perky brunnette waitress who cast sidelong looks at her partner led them up a wide staircase to the second floor and offered them a window seat that overlooked the neighborhood. With another perky voice she offered them menus and told them than another waiter would be back to help them. She took a chair at the round table set for four and picked up the menu. She already knew it by heart, but she read it anyway to take up what time the waiter would come back. Down on the street below, more people were streaming into the cafe by the minute. Idly she wondered which one was Edna. Most of the patrons were businessmen, there were a few younger people, probably from the nearby community college, and perhaps a few tourists. Tourists were always easy to spot because they brought kids with them. Rowdy kids who kept spilling drinks and whining about the vegetables. A waiter with an outrageous handlebar moustache was approaching their table. Ah, our orders are about to be taken, she thought. But then she spotted the woman trailing behind him. Edna Greenville did not fit her mental image of a recently widowed woman. She was wearing one of those rather loud sparkly cocktail dresses with a white feathered boa slung across her neck. Quite a few cafe patrons were turning their heads to stare. The dress was a shimmering satin blue that matched her still sharp eyes. She was wearing strappy heels that probably added about four inches to her height. And she looked unnaturally young despite her solid gray hair that had been expertly curled. Another plastic surgeon patient, Simone thought wryly. “Good afternoon,” she told them, stepping past the waiter who got a disgruntled glint in his eye. “Sorry I am late. Got caught in the traffic.” Simone briefly glanced outside again, noting that even though there were quite a few people and cars out, the traffic seemed to be moving efficiently. She looked back and caught the slight upturn of Adrian’s mouth. Well, what do you know, an old lady who wants to be young and fashionably late. “You must be Mrs. Greenville,” Simone said shaking her hand. Firm grip. She did not seem to be the type to forget her medication, let alone even have a condition that required it. “I’m Simone Sung.” “Pleased to meet you.” “Adrian Dubois,” he inserted. Edna gave him a curt nod and turned back to Simone. “Yes, yes, I believe you were the one I called.” She grinned. It wasn’t every day that she saw Adrian being rebuffed by a woman. “Adrian told me you had a little problem you wanted us to solve?” “Yes.” Edna sighed. “I swear it is wreaking all our plans.” The moustached waiter gave a discrete cough. “Are you ready to order or do you need a few more minutes?” The older woman waved her hand. “Whatever you have for soup. The soup of the day would be fine.” “The chicken pasta please.” Simone promptly gave the waiter her menu. Adrian’s eyes had wandered back down to the menu. “Well...” Amused, the women watched the waiter fidget which was only indicated by his twitching eyebrow. “Hmm. Well, I could have that, but I had that last time. How about the halibut?” “Very good sir,” the waiter interjected before he could pretend to change his mind again. “We will have it out in a few minutes.” “Thanks.” Adrian smiled and the waiter seemed to melt under its heat. He bowed and apologized profusely before retreating. Unforgiveable charmer, Simone suddenly thought sourly. |