The Spirit is Willing (An Ophelia Wylde Paranormal Mystery) Read Online Free Page A

adventure than the Times revealed. I have been working on my own account,” I said, motioning to the papers. “It has proved more difficult than I anticipated, however.”
    “Writing down a story must be hard work.”
    “It’s not the writing,” I said. “It’s telling the truth about oneself.”
    “You’re not truthful?”
    “I am now,” I said. “But there was a long period in my life when I wasn’t. I was a con woman, a shyster, a spook artist of the first order. I am ashamed of it now, but there’s nothing I can do about it, except to make amends to those I’ve hurt, where possible.”
    Molly thought about this.
    “Are you lying now about talking to ghosts?” she asked.
    “Talking isn’t the right word,” I said. “Ghosts don’t answer direct questions from the living, generally, but they do provide clues if you listen closely. Ghosts never lie, but demons often do. Not all the dead manifest as ghosts, but when they do it’s because of unfinished business, and they can only pass over when that business is resolved.”
    “What is your rate?”
    “My fee is twenty dollars, payable in advance, for a week’s detection,” I said, reciting from memory the lines I had spent hours composing. “That amount includes the assistance of Mister Calder, if needed, but it does not include travel or other expenses. These expenses will be subject to your approval before they are incurred and will be itemized and due upon completion of the case.”
    “This all sounds so businesslike.”
    “It is a business,” I said. “Ghosts may not require food or heat or a roof over their heads, but human beings do, as my partner is constantly reminding me. I am just as deserving of compensation as any of the other tradesmen along Front Street who provide a service. And so my clients know this is not some kind of swindle, all monies, save expenses, of course, will be returned if the mystery is not satisfactorily explained.”
    “Oh, I didn’t mean that,” she said. “It just seems so strange, dealing with spirits in such a dollars and cents way. You have done this a lot since the Russian girl?”
    “More than a few times,” I said. “Yours would be Revenant No. 15.”
    “These cases were successes?”
    “For the most part,” I said. “Many common noisy ghosts, with no mystery to be solved. One will-o’-the-wisp. The murder of a drover by his partner, and the resulting haunting of said partner. Three ghosts with family secrets to convey. Another unhappy that his grave remained unmarked after six months. They all crossed over quickly, once their business was finished.”
    “Are you occupied tomorrow night?”
    “I am now,” I said.
    Molly Howart opened her clutch and counted out twenty dollars in single greenbacks. She placed the pile of notes carefully on the desk, atop the ink-stained manuscript.
    I stared at the money.
    “Isn’t that the correct sum?” she asked.
    “Yes, it’s perfect,” I said.
    I could feel myself blush, a warm feeling that spread across my neck and cheeks and settled burning in my earlobes. Slowly, I pushed the money back across the table.
    “I’m sorry, it slipped my mind that my partner, Mister Calder, has the books with him just now, so I am unable to write you a receipt. Do you mind holding my fee until, well, later?”
    She nodded and returned the money to her clutch.
    “May I ask a final question?”
    I said it would be all right.
    “Where do we go when we die?”
    “I don’t know where we go when we die,” I said, “but I know how we get there, because I saw it last night in my dreams. We take the train.”

3
    It’s a scorching night in midsummer, the sky is shot with stars, and I’m standing on the depot platform at Dodge City in what might be a wedding dress. I can see the headlight of a train as it shimmies up the tracks far to the east, but I don’t hear the familiar locomotive rumble.
    There is no sound from the train at all.
    This is when I notice the