we do. The fact remains,
I’m able to see and speak with the dead. Mr. Swanson is here now
and if you have questions that only he can answer, I’ll be happy to
translate those answers for you.”
“So, you claim that Peter is here
now?” So quiet, so calm.
I nodded and looked at the chair
where Peter Swanson sat. “He’s sitting right there. His expression
is a bit bemused and he’s tugging on his right ear lobe.”
Mr. Quinn continued to take small
sips of his tea as he watched me.
“Did you have any questions you
wanted me to ask him to prove that I can see him?”
“That won’t be necessary.”
My heart sank even further. Mr.
Quinn seemed unflappable, and if he wasn’t willing to let me prove
I could see Peter Swanson, I had no idea how we were going to
complete the job. I looked at Thulu questioningly and he gave me a
small shrug.
“Well, then, I guess we won’t take
up any more of your time. Thank you for the tea and cookies,” I
said politely, gathering my purse. My grandmother would be proud of
me for showing good manners.
“Aren’t you going to complete the
job Peter hired you to do?”
I was at a loss. “You’ll let us do
the job? You believe us?”
“Of course, I do. Do you honestly
think I could live with a man for fifty years and not know when he
was in the same room with me? Living or dead, I know when Peter is
here. He’s come to visit me many times over the last few
weeks.”
I looked between Mr. Quinn and Mr.
Swanson, who was chuckling quietly to himself.
“I told you he was more open to
things than I was,” said Mr. Swanson.
“I guess so,” I said, looking at
Mr. Swanson.
Mr. Quinn smiled. “I bet he just
told you I was the one who believed in a spiritual realm.”
I nodded. “Something like that.” I
repeated what Mr. Swanson had said for Mr. Quinn and for Thulu who
hadn’t been watching Mr. Swanson.
“So, how do you work exactly?”
asked Mr. Quinn, with a twinkle in his eye. I breathed a sigh of
relief that at least he seemed curious about our abilities.
Thulu took over, explaining about
his abilities, before he stood and indicated the chair where Mr.
Swanson sat. “If I may?”
Mr. Quinn nodded and Mr. Swanson
floated out of the chair. Thulu went over to the easy chair and
tilted it to the side. A fat manila envelope had been duct taped to
the bottom. He motioned for me to remove it, and I handed it to Mr.
Quinn. Thulu gently eased the heavy chair back down, with a gentle
thump.
Mr. Quinn held the envelope for a
long minute before he pulled the duct tape off the edges. I could
see that his name was on the outside. He opened the envelope and
withdrew a thick stack of bills. His mouth dropped open and tears
sprang to his eyes. Thulu went over to him and put a hand on his
shoulder.
“Just think of it as an Easter egg
hunt, sir. That might make it easier.”
Mr. Quinn and I spent the next two
hours trailing Thulu from room to room as he recovered envelope
after envelope of cash.
The kitchen was especially lovely.
Completely modern, with new appliances. A built-in booth was set
into a bay window, overlooking the back yard. A large island took
up the middle of the room and there was lots of cupboard space. It
was a cook’s kitchen, and I wished our tiny kitchen was even half
the size of this one. I complimented Mr. Quinn on the kitchen
design.
With a smile, he said, “Thank you,
my dear. This was our favorite room. Peter was quite the cook and
we designed this to be very cook-friendly.”
“Well, I love it! You did an
awesome job on it.” I said sincerely, as I looked around.
The top two floors hadn’t made it
into the cosmetic renovation and made me feel a bit sad. The walls
on the top floor had old, torn and stained wallpaper. The paint was
chipped and the wood was scarred and scuffed. Boxes were stored
neatly here and there in different rooms, but the air of neglect
was palpable.
The second story was in much better
shape than the top floor, but