When The Spirit Moves You (The Jeff Resnick Mysteries) Read Online Free Page B

blue light in one of the upstairs rooms—a rerun of Survivor?—the big old house was dark. I couldn’t even see the sign that advertised the medium’s services.
    “ Creepy,” Richard whispered.
    “ You ought to see the inside.”
    We walked past the gravel drive and once out of the glow of lamplight darted into the home’s weed-strewn side yard.
    “ Goddamnit, you didn’t tell me the place hadn’t been mown all summer,” Richard groused as our arrival seemed to have rousted a swarm of hungry mosquitoes.
    “ What’s a little malaria between friends,” I said, swatting at my bare arms and wishing I’d worn a jacket. “And what are you bitching for anyway? All you have to do is hold the flashlight. I’m the idiot who’s got to do the digging.”
    “ So start digging.”
    Sound advice, but I had no idea where to start. “Give me a minute, willya?”
    “ A minute,” he said testily.
    I shut my eyes and cleared my mind, hoping I’d get some kind of vibe from the dead guy. I heard Richard slapping at mosquitoes and swearing under his breath.
    Maybe I needed to roam around the yard. Maybe if I trooped across the area in a kind of grid pattern I would get weird vibes, literally stumble across the gravesite, dig down a foot or so, find the victim and—voila—justice would be served.
    Of course the flaw in that plan was proving Madam Zahara or her son had killed the guy and buried him there. And what was their motive supposed to be, anyway?
    “ Have you got a plan or are we just going to stand here and be bitten until we come down with West Nile virus?” Richard asked.
    “ I’d better walk the property. Maybe then I’ll know where to start digging.” I could see Richard’s form in silhouette. He shook his head as though perturbed. “Why don’t you go stand on the sidewalk until I call for you. That way won’t get bitten as much.”
    “ I’ll do that,” he said. “The last thing I need right now is another blood-born virus.” He stalked off.
    I looked around the shadowy yard wondering which way I ought to go. It didn’t matter. I chose to start at the farthest, darkest corner and wished I’d asked Richard to hold the shovel while I used the flashlight.
    No sooner had I gone five feet when the toe of my sneakered foot got caught in a hole. The shovel went flying and I fell flat on my face, wrenching my knee. “Goddammit,” I swore as I grabbed at my leg, rolling onto my side. My movements had jostled a whole new swarm of mosquitoes, who seemed to zero in on my face and neck. I could feel them crawling all over me and slapped and cursed at them in anger.
    “ Will you shut up!” Richard whispered loudly.
    “ I just fell in a friggin’ hole,” I hissed back.
    “ Well, be more careful.”
    That was easy for him to say, he had the flashlight.
    I groped for the shovel and used it to haul myself upright before gingerly putting weight on my throbbing knee. It let me know it was not happy, but it didn’t give out on me, either. I took a fortifying breath to steady myself and opened my mind as I hobbled up and down the yard.
    The night air was cool and damp—clammy—and I shivered. In fact, I stopped and felt downright frozen. The saying “cold as the grave” came back to me.
    “ I think I found it,” I called to Richard.
    No answer.
    “ Hey, you still there?”
    “ Oh, shit,” I heard him say out loud.
    “ What’s the matter?”
    Before he could answer, a police car—with lights flashing—skidded to a halt in front of the yard.
    “ Oh, shit,” I said as the officer jumped out of the cruiser, trained a light on the yard until he found me, and then drew his gun.
    “ Hands up!” he shouted.
    I did as I was told, still with shovel in hand. “Something wrong, officer?” I asked, trying to sound cheerful.
    “ Yeah, you’re trespassing. Put down the shovel and drop to the ground.”
    I tossed the shovel aside and fell to the grass, unleashing another horde of mosquitoes and wondered