The Ghost of Greenwich Village by Lorna Graham

Author:Lorna Graham
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Tags: ghost, Family secrets, Contemporary Women, Beat Generation, Horror, N.Y.), New York, General, Literary, Young Women - New York (State) - New York, Supernatural, Body, Mind & Spirit, Young women, Haunted Places, New York (State), Greenwich Village (New York, Fiction
ISBN: 9780345526212
Publisher: Random House Digital, Inc.
Published: 2011-06-28T22:06:16+00:00

Chapter 11

I think what everyone wants to know is, why would a mugger wear high heels?”

Eve stood wrapped in her kimono, frowning at the television. It was 7:06, and Bliss had just begun the interview with Chief Pell. She had changed sixteen words of Eve’s intro, but things could have been worse.

“Well, that’s the question that’s perplexed us for months. We’ve never seen anything like it, Bliss. But now—now—I’m hoping we’ve cracked the case,” said Chief Pell with a tight smile.

Bliss, looking sensational in a cherry red blazer and lip gloss, leaned in close to her quarry, her trademark move when combined with a delicate frown and the rhythmic tapping of pen on armrest. She was watching the police chief with focused intensity. He gazed back, seemingly transfixed.

“Well, let’s hear it.” Bliss’s voice was as crisp as the bacon frying across the country at this hour. “You think you’ve solved the mystery? It sure has taken a while.”

Sheesh. More aggressively worded than what Eve had as her first suggested question, but still, so far, Bliss was sticking to the script. How could she not, though, really? The question was obvious.

“Well, yes,” began Pell. “It has taken us longer than we would have liked. But we’ve been at it twenty-four hours a day because we’re dedicated to protecting the citizens of New York City and we believe—”

“Yes, yes. As a citizen of New York City, I thank you,” Bliss said dryly. “Now tell us—what’s with the high heels? Even when he’s not wearing women’s clothing, he’s got the heels on. It makes no sense. They don’t exactly make for a speedy getaway.”

For heaven’s sake, why was she being so testy? Eve always felt uncomfortable when Bliss went into Jack Russell terrier mode. She seemed to revel in prodding interview subjects like the embers of a sputtering fire, until she had extracted from them every last spark of information, or, if circumstances demanded, humiliation.

The police chief shuffled in his seat. “We think the high heels are his disguise.”

Bliss leaned in, her visage reflected in the police chief’s badge. “What do you mean? That no one will recognize an armed felon if he’s wearing pumps?”

“No, Bliss. The shoes are not his visual disguise, they’re his audio disguise.”

“His audio disguise?” Bliss asked, betraying no hint that she’d read all of Pell’s answers earlier in Eve’s briefing note; that she and the chief were, in a sense, two actors performing a play. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” began Pell, warming to the subject, “this is what I mean. What does a mugger—or any street criminal—depend on? The element of surprise. He needs to sneak up on his victim. This attacker has found a clever, and utterly unique, way of doing this.”

“Go on.”

“Well, Bliss, I’m sure you’re an alert, ‘big city’ woman.” Bliss narrowed her eyes at him, signaling displeasure at being patronized. “When you’re walking down the street at night and you hear footsteps coming up behind you, what do you do?”

“I look over my shoulder to see who it is.

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