Seeing the Light (A Marie Jenner Mystery Book 1) Read Online Free Page B

continued. “Painting and buffing and adding greenery to the main foyer. Crap like that. He said he was trying to get renters back.”
    “Well, that’s good, isn’t it?”
    “No. The old girl is falling apart. The roof is ready to go, and that furnace.” He shuddered and shook his head. “I tried talking to him about the furnace after I shut it down this spring. That’s when the yelling started. ‘Just make everything look okay on the outside, and shut your mouth,’ he says. So I did. Invisible became my middle name.
    “It bothered me though, you know? Not doing the job right. And then, after, the cops deciding I had been an accident. That bothered me too. I even tried to figure out what the cops missed. I didn’t find anything. Just the black spot on the cement where my body landed. Talk about depressing.”
    Not half as depressing as being told that the ghost I had promised to help was stuck in the building where he worked, and couldn’t remember his death.
    “I imagine,” I said, trying for an upbeat tone and managing to sound hysterical. “I need to do a little research to figure out why you’re being held here. So how about if you go wander around. Try to remember as much as you can, or something. I’ll find you when I have information for you.”
    Farley looked hurt. “I just told you, I can’t remember.”
    “Well, keep trying. It’s important for the process.”
    “Are you talking about that moving me on thing?” He scowled. “I told you, I’m not doing that.”
    That’s when I hit the wall.
    “If you don’t want to move on, then why are you even here, bothering me?” I snapped.
    Farley stared at me as though I’d slapped him across the face. Hard.
    “Because I can talk to you!” he finally cried. “I’m lonely, for Christ’s sake.”
    He stormed to the entrance of the office, and didn’t turn around when I said I was sorry. Just oozed through the door and out of my space.
    I felt like dirt.
    I should have realized he was lonely. Good grief, I’d be lonely if I was trapped in a building and had no-one to talk to for a week. All I’d done was think about myself. That was not fair. Not fair at all.
    I needed to help him, that much was certain. Since I had no idea what I should be doing, I needed to call my mom for advice, fight or no fight.
    I glanced at the clock on the wall above the door, and decided I’d call her over lunch. However, I had a couple of hours to kill before that.
    The mail came, and I flipped through the envelopes. I’d been instructed not to open them, but decided that organizing them wasn’t against the rules.
    I put the bills in one pile, and the bank statements in another. One of them, from a bank I’d never heard of, had the name Rochelle Martin on it. I was about to write “Return to Sender” across the front, but stopped, deciding not to make any assumptions on my first day. Maybe Mr. Latterson was letting this Rochelle Martin woman use his address or something. I put it in a separate pile. That left three letters from a lawyer’s office.
    Letters from lawyers were always a bad thing when I lived at home with Mom. I hoped they were better news at an import export office, and put them in their own separate pile.
    And then, my work was done.
    “Good grief,” I muttered, glancing at the time. It was only ten o’clock. Was it too early to go for lunch? How long was lunch, anyhow? “This is ridiculous.”
    I straightened my desk, even though it didn’t need it, and then grabbed my purse. Almost pulled out my cell phone, then didn’t. No cheating. I could wait until noon, which I assumed was the time I could go for lunch. Mr. Latterson hadn’t told me much of anything before he left, but I didn’t want him to return and find me away from my post. Or whatever.
    I would wait.
    I tried using the computer, but Mr. Latterson had it password protected. Now, I was willing to bet that he had the password written on a sticky note on his desk—he looked the