Case of the Broken Bridge by Shanna Swendson

Author:Shanna Swendson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Shanna Swendson

Chapter Ten

I needed to replicate the dinner Jesse would have served me, so I took a couple of cans of soda from my fridge and gathered paper plates, plastic cutlery, and paper napkins. I filled a plastic dish with chips from a bag in my pantry, then stopped by a restaurant to get burgers that more closely approximated something that might have been grilled in someone’s backyard than your typical fast-food burger would. I didn’t know if I actually needed two burgers or if Jesse would conjure up ghost food, but I figured it would be easier to convince his ghost that he’d actually grilled burgers and we’d eaten dinner if there was a second burger on the table.

I also needed an excuse to be in the backyard, so I put an earring in my pocket. I figured I could always claim I’d come to look for something I’d dropped on Monday night. That wouldn’t explain the hamburgers but, with any luck, no one would notice me and I wouldn’t need to use the ruse. I parked in Jesse’s driveway and found that the gate into the yard was still unlocked. There was no crime scene tape anywhere, so I might have been trespassing, but I wasn’t violating a crime scene. I didn’t see Jesse, so I hurried to set out the burgers on paper plates, arranged the drinks and cutlery, and poured chips onto both plates. I took a seat at the dining table on the porch and began eating, hoping Jesse would show.

When his ghost emerged from the house and headed toward the grill, I called out, “Hey, Jesse, have a seat and join me. You don’t have to keep fussing around with the food. I’m good. This burger is amazing. You do good work.” I kept my voice low so the nosy neighbor wouldn’t hear me. Her dog wasn’t barking, and I hoped that meant she was inside. The night was a bit chilly, so it wasn’t good weather for sitting around outside unless there was a fire pit.

He paused, and his image wavered. For a moment, I feared he’d disappear, but he solidified again. “Oh, yeah, sorry. I’m not used to having just one guest.” He came over and took the seat opposite me.

I had to fight the urge to celebrate with a fist pump. It seemed to have worked. I didn’t even try to bring up business while we ate—well, while I ate. He raised a ghost of a burger to his mouth. I couldn’t tell if he realized that the real burger still sat uneaten on the plate. “How’s Steve doing?” I asked. If he’d reset so many times the night before, he might not realize he’d told me about the rift with his son.

“Busy,” he said. “His team made the playoffs. Statistically, a lot of playoff games come down to the kicker. The teams are pretty evenly matched, so an extra point or field goal can make all the difference. Steve spends a lot of time practicing and stretching so he doesn’t get injured.

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