Elizabeth Basque - Medium Mysteries 02 - Silver Lake Read Online Free Page A

Though he was no longer angry, he looked tired, spent.
    There was no point in beating around the bush. “So? Did you go to see your son in Silver Lake?”
    Our conversation woke Julie. She hadn’t drunk much alcohol, and now, she gazed at us sleepy-eyed.
    “Did you tell Julie?” Mack asked, keeping his eyes on me.
    “ Yes, I did.”
    Mack floated over next to me and sat, or hovered, on the couch, as Julie was seated in his favorite spot. “Ah, well, I suppose it’s just as well.”
    My mouth was dry and tasted like an ashtray. I wanted to get some water but Mack had that serious look in his eyes, so I stayed. And waited for him to talk.
    Julie, however, was not quite as patient. “Well, are you going to tell us whatever it is that’s bothering you so much? Pauline’s been really worried, you know.”
    “Has she, now?” Mack, for all the worry on his face, glanced at me with something like appreciation.
    “ Of course I’ve been worried, you old bag of bones,” I quipped.
    Mack ran his ghost hand through his ghost hair, thinking. “All right, then,” he finally said. “I suppose it’s time for you to heah my story.”
     
     
    Chapter Six
     
    “I was one of six children,” Mack began. “I had three bruthahs and two sistahs. We grew up near the Cape, in a home my grandfather built.”
    “ Wow, that must have been amazing,” Julie commented.
    Mack cocked his head. I pictured him re-living some childhood memory. “In some ways, it was. But we weren’t rich, like most of the folk. My fathah ran a boat rental. Not one on those big fancy ones like they have today. It was seasonal. We all worked there in the summers, even my sistahs. The rest of the yeah, us boys would find wahk on fishing boats. It was hahd wahk and it was cold. But that was back in the day.”
    I was listening intently while making some coffee in the kitchen. “I bet it was cold,” I reflected. “Is that what brought you to California, eventually?”
    “ I’ll get to that,” Mack answered. He waited for me to return, handing a cup of coffee to Julie as well as my own doctored cup.
    “ Go on, we’re listening,” I said gently.
    “ My parents divorced when I was about sixteen,” he continued. “A divorce was practically unheard of back then, in our little town, about fifteen miles away from Cape Cod. I was second to the eldest. My oldest brothah and my next brothah and I stayed with my dad, and the rest moved with my mothah down to Georgia.”
    He paused, caught up in his own story. I wondered how long it had been since he’d told anyone this. The wall clock ticked.
    I did my best to encourage him to continue. “So, your family split. That must have been tough.”
    “ My brothahs and I worked with my dad. We didn’t really have time to think about much besides work, and school. School came second. I was the only one to graduate high school. And when I turned eighteen, I left.”
    “ Where did you go?”
    “ First, I went down to Atlanta, and spent a yeah or so there. I got a good job, fixing boats. I saved every penny I could. It was good to see my mothah and sistahs again, but I didn’t really belong. The South is much different.”
    Mack got up now, and moved around the room. He stayed at floor level, moving back and forth, ghost-pacing.
    “A buddy said he was moving to California, and talked me into going with him. This was during the mid-seventies. He talked about what a life we could have, the California girls, the wahm beaches, how you could do anything you wanted in California. But I wanted to wahk. I wanted to make enough money to buy my mothah the home she deserved, and put my sistahs through college.
    “ When I came to California…boy, talk about a change of lifestyle! My buddy, Pete, and I got a little place down near Venice Beach.”
    Mack smiled as he spoke now. I had a feeling he was remembering simpler times. “California in the seventies! You really could do almost anything you wanted to. Jobs were easy