Pennies for the Ferryman - 01 Read Online Free

the tar out of him and convince ‘em to go away.”
    “Her,” I corrected.
    “You shouldn’t hit a woman, Michael – dead or not, it’s not right. I was going to recommend you get yourself a nice set of brass knuckles, but I don’t want to hear nothing bout you hitting no woman! You were raised better than that! You’re gonna have to convince that girl to free herself.”
    “How am I supposed to do that?” I didn’t want to offend his sensibilities. After all, the woman was already dead!
    “Well that’s the sixty-four thousand dollar question, isn’t it? You just gonna have to figure that one out. Looks like I’m done here.”
    Sounding like some cheap movie extra, I said, “Wait! Don’t go! I have more questions!”
    “There are plenty of people who can answer them – but not me. My time’s up. If you ever manage to convince your mother that you can do this, tell her how proud I am of her. I shoulda told her that more often when I was alive.”
    He paused for a moment and chuckled, “She’s pretty grounded in the here and now, so I reckon you’re in for an uphill battle on that one, but she might come around one day. You can mention that I never did punish her for stealing that fifty dollars from me when she was sixteen. I’ll bet she’ll remember that. Take care of yourself, Michael. Hey, see that woman over that way with that big guy jumping up and down next to her screaming ‘The money is in the attic!’ I think you’ve got your first customer.”
    I couldn’t hear anything but my Grandpa speaking, but as I looked over at what he was talking about and a sensation passed over me. It was like holding a rope and feeling it go slack. Spinning back, he was gone.
    For a brief moment, I was again that startled preteen, who’d just lost his grandfather. Rarely would anyone catch me admitting it, but that was the point that my life hit rock bottom. The bastard listed under the father block of my birth certificate ran off right after that and ever since, it’s been a long climb out of debt and poverty for mom and me.
    Swallowing the sudden hurt, I stood and started towards the young black woman crying by a graveside. A portly man was standing next to her looking both ashamed and exasperated. Meanwhile, I was trying to think of a scenario that wouldn’t end with her calling the police.
    “Excuse me miss, but I think I can help.”
    “Who are you? What do you want?”
    “My name’s Mike. I want to help.”
    “Great! I don’t know how much more help I can stand from you damn crackers! You’re already about to take my house. What the hell else do you want from me?”
    I pointed down to my ripped jeans and faded shirt. “Do I look like The Man? Do I have a three piece suit? Am I carrying a briefcase, wearing a tie? I don’t think so. I see a big fat dude looking like he’s throwing a fit and trying to tell you something.” I looked at the headstone and turned to the ghost next to her. “I assume you must be Lamont? Come on over here, Lamont, and let me touch you.”
    Lamont looked as shocked as his daughter did, but did as I asked. “Now hold out your hand. Let’s see if this works.” I brush his fingertips and feel a sharp stab of pain. “Ow! Damn, that hurts. Start talking!”
    “Tell Denise the money’s in the attic! There’s an old suitcase on the bookshelf. It’s got some old cigar boxes in it. The money’s in there.”
    “How much?” I skipped the whole moral dilemma thing. I didn’t plan on cheating people, but I’d be damned if I was just going to give it away! Even ‘Angels of Mercy’ have to eat.
    “What?”
    “You heard me. You think I’m just going to stand here and let you shock the shit out of me for free? I want a finder’s fee, or I walk. How much money is there?”
    He hesitated. “Eight large.”
    “Lamont here says there’s a stash of money in the house. He says it’s ‘eight large’, I’ll tell you where it is, but I’m expecting a finder’s fee.