In the Shadows by Kim Smith

Author:Kim Smith
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Kim Smith
Published: 2016-09-09T04:00:00+00:00

Later, once Dwayne had time to analyze his feelings, and do a little deep breathing, I consulted the shot sheet and asked, “Okay, where is the area where the ghost rattled pots and pans?”

“In here,” Mrs. Keith said, leading the way to the small kitchen. Next to the sink stood a dented washing machine nestled right against the wall.

She tapped the copper pots hanging there. “It knocks them down every other night seems like.”

I waved Dwayne away, and he pretended to be interested in a flyer spread out on the table. If he had ears that swiveled, they would have been turned in our direction.

My camera shot slowly panned from the pots to the woman who related the story behind their strange nightly musical. Dwayne got the same shot from a different angle.

“Makes a terrible racket when they fall on the washing machine. Always happens after we’re gone to bed. I think the ghost likes scaring me out of a sound sleep.”

I stifled a laugh. “Didn’t you say you caught the ghost in a picture?”

Dwayne glared at me. He didn’t want to see any evidence.

Mary moved back to the front room, and we followed. She pulled a small photo album entitled ‘Mom’s Brag Book’ out from under the end table. “Here you go.”

She handed it to me. I flipped through the images. Dwayne came to stand behind me, curiosity getting the better of him. I paused my perusal of the images to peer closely at a photo of a tabby cat staring at the camera. In the foreground, the photographer’s finger could easily be seen. A thin stream of blue smoke floated between the cat and the photographer.

“I took that just last week.”

“Oh?” I asked, politely. To Dwayne, I said, “Turn your camera on for this.”

He lifted it and shot down at the image.

“Show me where the ghost is in this,” I instructed.

She moved to my side and pointed at the smoke. I tried hard not to make a derisive sound.

“That’s the paranormal ectoplasm.”

“I see,” I said.

She believed that because smoke was on the image, it was a ghost. I would bet a dollar to a donut she had been smoking while taking the photo. I gave Dee time to get his shot and turned the page to another one of the cat.

“Where is this cat?” I asked, pointing at the image.

She glanced around. “She’s here somewhere. Doesn’t really like strangers. Her name is Fluffy. I would call her, but she won’t come to it. And I mean, really? Do cats even do that?”

I shrugged.

She took the photo album and flipped forward a few pages. “I bet Fluffy is with Becky.” She tapped a photo, and I leaned over to look. A freckle-faced kid in pink was grinning for the camera with the tabby in her arms.

“Becky is your daughter?”

She nodded. “See? The orbs are over her head in this shot.”

I followed where her lime-green polished nail pointed. “Most of these pictures with Becky have orbs.”

“Dwayne,” I said, turning to face him.

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