The Silent Ghost (2 page)

Tanisha was still cautious. “Just because that’s her name doesn’t mean they’re related.”

“If she is, you thinking of doing a story on her?”

“Not sure.” Tanisha had plans for Kelly Whitecastle, but they didn’t involve a story. Instead, they hinged on the hazy mass keeping her company.

When Zak left, Tanisha did another search. She wasn’t interested in Grant Whitecastle, a loud, brash, scandal-loving, and scandal-generating talk show host; she was interested in Kelly’s mother. Tanisha remembered that Grant Whitecastle’s divorce from his first wife a few years back had been very rocky and public, so there should be plenty of information on it. Her next Google search brought up information on Emma Whitecastle, Grant’s ex, who was building her own TV career. She was also a talk show host, but in a more serious vein. Well, serious depending on your beliefs. Her show,
The
Whitecastle Report
, aired on cable and investigated issues of a paranormal nature. Some of the online articles suggested that Emma Whitecastle was a medium who could see and speak to the spirits of the dead. Tanisha glanced over at Kelly. She still hadn’t made a positive ID on the girl’s parentage, and fact-checking was important to her. But if Kelly was the daughter of Emma Whitecastle, Tanisha wondered if she had inherited her mother’s alleged talents. And did the daughter know a gauzy apparition might be keeping her company? Or was she as oblivious to the possibilities as she appeared?

Tanisha did a Google image search next and a few photos of Emma Whitecastle popped up. In one, she was posing and smiling for the cameras with a young woman by her side at an awards show. The caption identified them as talk show host Emma Whitecastle and daughter Kelly.
Bingo
. Mother and daughter looked a lot alike. Both were tall, slender, and beautiful, but Emma wore her curly blonde hair cropped short and her face had fine lines around her eyes and smiling mouth.

Tanisha glanced back at Kelly’s table to do an in-person comparison and saw Kelly had packed up her things. After closing her laptop and stashing it in the canvas bag she carried everywhere, Tanisha started for the door.

“Hey,” Zak called to her. “You going to pay your tab?”

“Crap.” She returned to the counter. Tanisha watched with frustration as Kelly disappeared down the street. Zak was helping a customer and hadn’t given her the check yet.

“Zak,” she said, trying to be heard over the noise from the milk steamer. “I really need to catch someone. Can I settle-up later today?”

Zak handed two large lattes to a middle-aged man with his gray hair pulled back into a ponytail. “Sure, T,” he said, tossing her a wink. “I know where you live.”

Slipping her head and one shoulder through the long strap of her bag, she nodded her thanks and made a dash for the door.

The coffee shop was located on a narrow street that contained a mixture of historical buildings and modern retail businesses. Gabby’s itself had been opened inside one of the charming historical houses
that had, at one time, been a private home. She bounced down the stairs to the street and looked in the direction she’d seen Kelly walking. It was back towards the Harvard campus. Kelly was far up ahead, walking briskly. Tanisha broke into a loose trot to catch up.

“Hey,” she called to Kelly. When Kelly didn’t turn around, Tanisha called to her again, a little louder. “Hey, Kelly. Wait up!”

Kelly stopped in her tracks and turned around. Coming towards her at a fast pace was a young woman in her mid-twenties wearing black leggings tucked into short boots and a thick gray tunic sweater. Wound around her neck was a printed scarf. With one hand, she secured a heavy messenger bag against her torso so it wouldn’t bounce as she moved. The woman was petite and the color of rich caramel, with long black hair clasped off to one side. A riot of short, tight tendrils framed her angular and serious face.

“That a schoolmate of yours?” the ghost hovering next to Kelly asked.

“Not that I know of, Granny,” Kelly answered. “But I have seen her in the coffee shop a few times. Maybe I left something back at Gabby’s and she’s bringing it to me.”

When the woman reached Kelly she was a little out of breath.

“Hi,” Kelly greeted her.

“Howdy,” said the ghost, even though Tanisha couldn’t hear her.

“Hi,” Tanisha squeezed out before taking a deep breath. “Boy, I have to get to the gym more often.”

Kelly smiled. “It’s hard to make time for exercise when you’re going to school.”

Tanisha waved a hand in the air as if erasing the thought. “I don’t go to school. Well, at least not now. I graduated.”

As usual with strangers, Kelly was friendly but cautious, a by-product of being the spawn of a famous family. Children growing up in the shadow of fame and fortune were always on guard for people who wanted to use them and their connections, while being hungry to be liked for themselves. For Kelly the caution came from all sides. She wasn’t just the daughter of Emma and Grant Whitecastle, she was
also the grand-daughter of legendary film director (the late) George Whitecastle and his wife Celeste, a former screen star. From the moment of her birth, she had learned to be wary of people, especially the press. The mere whiff of dishonesty could send her bolting like a spooked colt.

“My name is Tanisha.” The woman held out her right hand to Kelly. “Tanisha Costello.”

Kelly took it and shook politely. “Seems you already know my name.” She dropped Tanisha’s hand and shifted her backpack to a more comfortable position.

“Itty-bitty thing, isn’t she?” Granny, who was diminutive herself, moved around Tanisha, taking stock of the woman. As she drifted, she thought she caught Tanisha watching her out of the corner of her eye.

“I’d like to talk to you sometime,” Tanisha ventured. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Kelly threw up a wall felt by both of them.

Kelly glanced down the road in the direction she’d been heading. “I can’t, I have to get going or I’ll be late.”

“At your convenience, of course,” Tanisha added. “Maybe over coffee or tea at Gabby’s?”

“Mark my words,” Granny cautioned Kelly, “there’s more to this one than meets the eye.”

Kelly’s eyes flitted quickly to Granny then back to Tanisha. She took a step back. “You’re a reporter, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Tanisha admitted. “I work freelance.”

Kelly lifted a lip in a semi-snarl. “Leave me alone.”

“I’m not some bottom-feeder, Kelly.” Tanisha’s voice was stern, but calm. She’d expected this kind of initial reaction. “A piece I wrote on Afghan women living in the U.S. was in the
Globe
on Tuesday. It’s hardly gossip fodder. Check it out.”

Granny drifted close to Kelly. “She can see me, Kelly,” the ghost reported.

Kelly Whitecastle stopped dead in her tracks, but didn’t turn around. “Are you sure?” she whispered to the ghost.

“Maybe not clearly, like you,” Granny clarified, “but she does seem to sense my presence. Watch.”

As Granny left Kelly’s side, Kelly turned back around to face Tanisha. The ghost sidled up to the reporter and as she did, Kelly caught Tanisha start to turn her head towards Granny, then quickly correct her actions to look back at Kelly. As Granny moved around Tanisha, Tanisha’s eyes fought not to follow the apparition.

Kelly took a step forward. “Who are you really?”

Fishing around in her bag, Tanisha located a business card and handed it to Kelly. Her name, e-mail, telephone number, and occupation were printed in a clear, unfussy font on the cream-colored card. “I’m who I say I am. If you don’t believe me, ask Zak back at Gabby’s.”

“Zak?” Puzzled, Kelly looked up from the card. “Oh, you mean the tall guy who works there.”

“Yes. He’s known me for a few years. Or you can call the
Globe
. I’ve done several pieces for them.”

Granny was behind Tanisha. “Boo!” the ghost shouted, but Tanisha didn’t flinch. Granny leaned in close. “State your business, girl,” she demanded. Again, Tanisha gave no indication of hearing anything.

“I don’t think she can hear me,” Granny told Kelly. “Either that or she’s a mighty fine actress.” Granny moved around Tanisha and took up her place next to Kelly. She folded her arms across her small ghostly chest and scowled at the intruder as if it would intimidate her.

Still holding Tanisha’s card, Kelly asked, “What do you want to talk to me about?”

Tanisha gave Kelly a half-grin, then moved her eyes off to Kelly’s side, where she saw the hazy cluster. “I assume the ghost checked me out and approves?”

Granny smacked her hands together, but the action produced no sound. “I told you she could see me!” The tiny sprit hopped from foot to foot in a victory dance.

“Ghost? What in the world are you talking about?” Kelly knitted her brows. “I don’t have time for this nonsense.” She adjusted her backpack again and turned away.

“I know who your mother is and what she is. And I think you’re the same.”

Tanisha’s words stopped her in her tracks. This time Kelly didn’t turn around but stood cemented to the ground. Around them, the trees lining the street rustled their golden foliage in a final farewell. Very soon the trees would be bare and the air would turn cold. Even now, the breeze held a nip of winter’s prelude that would only grow as the afternoon wore on and the sun set.

After a few heartbeats, both women took a deep breath. Then, without a word, Kelly continued heading back to campus, leaving Tanisha alone on the sidewalk.

“I need your help, Kelly.” Tanisha closed the growing space between them in another effort.

Granny got in front of Tanisha, her hands on her hips. “Are you deaf, girl? Can’t you see Kelly wants to be left alone.”

Tanisha, seeing the haze clustered in front of her, stopped short, but determined to reach Kelly, she plowed through the spirit.

“Boy, I hate that!” sputtered Granny. “If the girl wants to know about ghosts, then she needs to learn some manners.”

Kelly was ready to answer Granny, but bit her lip. The reporter had no hard evidence Kelly could see and talk to ghosts like her mother, and she wasn’t about to give her any.

Slowing, but not stopping, Kelly said, “My mother is out of the country right now, but I’m sure if you e-mail or call her show, she’d consider assisting you with your article. I’m really not into the whole ghost thing.”

Tanisha kept up with her. “So you can’t see the ghost that’s with you right now?”

“Don’t say a word, Kelly,” Granny cautioned.

Kelly put her head down and kept moving, stopping only when she had to wait for a streetlight to change at a busy intersection. Tanisha stopped next to her on the curb.

“I want your help, Kelly,” Tanisha told her while keeping her eyes on the moving traffic. “Not your mother’s. And it’s not about an article I’m writing. I think…no, I know…a ghost is haunting me.” She turned to look at Kelly. “I’ve seen you in Gabby’s and you often have a spirit with you. I’m sure of
it.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Tanisha.”

“My friends call me T.”

As the pedestrian walk light came on, Kelly whipped her head around and confronted Tanisha. “Oh, so we’re friends now? And when did that happen? A few blocks ago? A few steps ago? Or maybe when you made up some lame story about ghosts?”

Undaunted, Tanisha kept steady with her purpose. “I need your help, Kelly. And the help of your ghost friend. I think the ghost who comes to me is trying to tell me something.” She paused, then added, her face intense with determination, “It may even be trying to hurt me.”

Kelly looked down at the business card still clutched in her hand. While Tanisha watched, she tore it up and tossed it into a nearby city trash can, then started off across the street. “Like I told you,” she shot over her shoulder. “You want my mother. I don’t know anything about ghosts. That’s her department.”

“Where’ve you been, Granny?” Kelly asked as the ghost materialized next to her desk. “Haven’t seen you for a few days. Have you been with Mom?”

“We need to talk,” Granny answered, her arms crossed in front of her. It was her routine position when she had something serious to say or was displeased.

Kelly looked up from her work. “Geez, Granny, you look like you just ate something nasty. What’s up?” She became concerned and gave the ghost her full attention. “Is it Mom? Is she okay?”

“Emma’s fine. She sends her love.” Granny looked around the room.

“Is she having a good time in Australia?”

“Seems to be, especially now that Phil’s joined her.”

A slow smile crossed Kelly’s face. Phil Bowers was a crusty rancher/lawyer who adored Kelly’s mother. “Did Phil show up to be with Mom or to keep an eye on that cute archeologist that has the hots for her?”

“A bit of both, I’m thinking. A smart old rooster guards his hen from the fox.”

Kelly laughed and turned back to her studies. “I’m not so sure Mom would like being compared to a hen who needs protection.”

The ghost shrugged. “Maybe not, but that’s exactly what’s happening. But I don’t think Dr. Keenan has been around much. Emma said he got called to some place in Egypt right after Phil arrived.”

Kelly laughed again. “I’m not surprised. Phil can be pretty intimidating when he wants to be.” Looking out the window of her room, she thought about her mother halfway around the world caught
between the attentions of two smart and charming men. She knew Emma was a beautiful woman, but it still felt weird to her that her mother was being chased like a popular high school girl. Her father had definitely taken Emma for granted.

“Granny,” she started, without turning around, “do you think Mom will marry Phil someday or does she have feelings for this Quinn Keenan guy?”

“My money’s on Phil,” the ghost answered with a determined jerk of her head. “He’s the only one eating crackers in her bed, and that wouldn’t be the case if she had any doubts about him. Emma’s not the type to play footsie with two men at a time. I think she’s decided Quinn is just a friend.”

“Don’t you like Dr. Keenan?”

“I like him real fine.” Granny drifted across the room as she gave the question more thought. “He’s taller than Phil. And younger and better looking in a lot of ways. Still has his hair. And Quinn has that devilish streak and swagger that a lot of the ladies like. And I do believe he’s sweet on Emma for real. If Phil wasn’t around, he might even be a good match for her. But Phil is a better one. He’s more stable and solid.” She studied Kelly with a sharp eye. “Why? Don’t you want your mother to marry Phil?”