Givin' Up The Ghost (An Indigo Eady Paranormal Mystery) by Gwen Gardner

Author:Gwen Gardner [Gardner, Gwen]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: teen, Tween, Young Adult, Young Adult Paranormal, paranormal, romance, supernatural, Paranormal Mystery, ghosts
Publisher: Gwen Gardner
Published: 2012-09-27T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

Snug Meeting

For a minute my nightmare included a crime scene with me lying prone and surrounded by flashing police lights. But the blinking Christmas lights around the snug window eventually came into view. I lay on the bench, completely disoriented, not knowing how I got there. I tried to sit up, but wobbled back down.

I groaned.

“Good, you’re awake,” said Simon. “Can you sit up? Go slowly now.” He pulled me gently by my arm until I was in the upright position, and then squeezed in beside me. I listed against his shoulder, like a sinking ship.

I tried to focus, squinting my eyes until both of him merged into one. “What happened?” I raised a bandaged hand to my head and gazed around the table at the concerned faces; Simon, Badger, Riley and Cappy. The serving girl floated around, too, acting as if she was working. But I could tell she was eavesdropping.

My skull screamed, stomach churned and dizziness assailed me. The new bandage wrapped around my hand caught my attention. Pulling the gauze away, I peeked in. I could now add broken glass cuts to the blisters, but at least the blood was gone. I could handle the ache, but not blood.

“You’re all right, now,” said Riley. “Here, have a sip of water.” She looked as fresh as I was grubby, in a lime green cowl-neck sweater and designer jeans, her short shiny hair tucked behind one ear.

She handed a glass of water across the table. As I reached for it, I remembered. Dickey Dan’s. Stephen Clarke. The pint glass! “I...I don’t feel well.” Stale alcohol and vomit smell wafted from my grungy blue-lavender blouse, the one that matched my eyes so well. I sort of remembered wallowing on the floor of Dickey Dan’s before...crap...vomiting all over Badger’s boots.

Simon inched away and Cappy shoved a wastebasket into my hands.

I glared grumpily at the whole room in general, before stopping at Badger, who watched warily from the other side of the table.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I did it again, didn’t I?”

He nodded, his expression unreadable. He didn’t need to say anything for me to figure it out. I was a disaster waiting for a place to land.

Drunk twice in one week without ever having a drop pass my lips. I sighed. “I...I think I’m hung over.”

“I told you she was sloshed!” exclaimed Simon. “Like the other day when we were having lunch and Claude Burns...”

“I am not sloshed!” I said heatedly, followed by a gasp of pain. I pressed the cool water glass to my forehead. “Not really,” I said more quietly, mindful of my throbbing head.

“You were!” Simon laughed. “That psycho thing you do not discounted.”

“Psychometry!” I said, glowering. “The glass. Stephen Clarke’s glass. It contained his energy, took on his drunkenness, and when I touched it...” I gasped again. “I just remembered. The vision.” I looked across the table at Badger. “Remember? He said your dad shoved him when he went to his office. But that’s not all! He threatened to kill your dad.

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