“He’s still in trouble,” she said. “And it’s getting closer.”
Mary sat back against the couch. “Why do you have to be so cryptic? Can’t you just tell me what’s going on and what’s going to happen?”
“If I knew, I’d tell you. All I know is that he’s in danger.”
“Okay, then tell me this,” Mary countered. “When am I going to be able to tell him that you’re dead?”
Jeannine shook her head. “I don’t know, perhaps after you find the person who killed me.”
“What happened to you? Where can I start looking?”
Jeannine started to fade away.
“I really hate how you always do that when you don’t want to answer a question,” Mary yelled at the vanishing figure.
Jeannine shrugged her shoulders and disappeared.
Mary dropped back against the couch, “I’m beginning to really dislike ghosts.”
Chapter 12
The parking lot at the hospital was crowded, as usual, and Mary made her way across the slush-filled lot to the entrance doors. The giant revolving door slowly turned and opened into the lobby. A few senior citizen volunteers were manning the reception desks, but Mary didn’t stop there, she knew her way down to the morgue.
Walking through the hospital was always an interesting experience for Mary. She was never quite sure who she might encounter. She walked down the main hall and past the waiting area for the hospital lab. It was there they performed cat scans, ultrasounds, radiological tests and blood tests. Suddenly the ghosts of an elderly gentleman dressed only in a hospital gown whisked past her. He was dancing a jig and snapping his fingers in time to an Irish ditty he was singing. He looked at Mary and winked, then twirled around, holding onto the gown so he didn’t expose more than Mary wanted to see. He blew her a kiss and went dancing up the corridor slowly fading away until finally he was gone.
He knew the way home, Mary thought.
The hospital intercom blared “Code Blue - Radiology - Adult.”
Mary shook her head, as she watched the emergency personnel rush past her. They weren’t going to get him back; he was well on his way home.
She continued down the hall, past the elevators and the Gift Shop and finally, at the end of the corridor, she reached a non-descript metal door that led to a staircase. The stairwell was not one used for patients, the drab yellow paint on the walls and commercial gray tiles on the stairs were definitely more functional than aesthetic. She walked down the stairs to the basement. Large pipes, wrapped with insulation lay just over her head. A janitor’s storage area was just to the left of the staircase. At the right was another door. Mary pushed through the door and entered an older portion of the hospital.
There were no lovely pink-hued walls with tasteful framed works of art hanging at judicious intervals, these walls were stark white and the floors were light linoleum, rather than the soft gray carpet from the floor above. The doors did not have windows, they were plain white commercial doors and, if you didn’t pay attention to the small markers next to them, instead of the marketing department, you could easily walk straight into the morgue.
But that door was exactly what Mary wanted and without a moment’s delay, she opened the door and walked in.
Angela sat behind her desk in the small office at the front of the area. She was wearing a hospital lab coat, but looked to Mary like one of the doctors from a soap opera, perfectly coiffed. Angela looked up when Mary entered the room, smiled and rose immediately. “Mary, it’s good to see you,” she said.
Mary shook her hand and returned the greeting. “I really appreciate you letting me barge in on you,” she said.
Angela smiled, “Oh, no problem. How can I help you?”
“Well, I’m working on a case that involves domestic abuse,” she explained. “The wife has disappeared and we fear the worse. I was wondering if you had any Jane Does over the
Mary sat back against the couch. “Why do you have to be so cryptic? Can’t you just tell me what’s going on and what’s going to happen?”
“If I knew, I’d tell you. All I know is that he’s in danger.”
“Okay, then tell me this,” Mary countered. “When am I going to be able to tell him that you’re dead?”
Jeannine shook her head. “I don’t know, perhaps after you find the person who killed me.”
“What happened to you? Where can I start looking?”
Jeannine started to fade away.
“I really hate how you always do that when you don’t want to answer a question,” Mary yelled at the vanishing figure.
Jeannine shrugged her shoulders and disappeared.
Mary dropped back against the couch, “I’m beginning to really dislike ghosts.”
Chapter 12
The parking lot at the hospital was crowded, as usual, and Mary made her way across the slush-filled lot to the entrance doors. The giant revolving door slowly turned and opened into the lobby. A few senior citizen volunteers were manning the reception desks, but Mary didn’t stop there, she knew her way down to the morgue.
Walking through the hospital was always an interesting experience for Mary. She was never quite sure who she might encounter. She walked down the main hall and past the waiting area for the hospital lab. It was there they performed cat scans, ultrasounds, radiological tests and blood tests. Suddenly the ghosts of an elderly gentleman dressed only in a hospital gown whisked past her. He was dancing a jig and snapping his fingers in time to an Irish ditty he was singing. He looked at Mary and winked, then twirled around, holding onto the gown so he didn’t expose more than Mary wanted to see. He blew her a kiss and went dancing up the corridor slowly fading away until finally he was gone.
He knew the way home, Mary thought.
The hospital intercom blared “Code Blue - Radiology - Adult.”
Mary shook her head, as she watched the emergency personnel rush past her. They weren’t going to get him back; he was well on his way home.
She continued down the hall, past the elevators and the Gift Shop and finally, at the end of the corridor, she reached a non-descript metal door that led to a staircase. The stairwell was not one used for patients, the drab yellow paint on the walls and commercial gray tiles on the stairs were definitely more functional than aesthetic. She walked down the stairs to the basement. Large pipes, wrapped with insulation lay just over her head. A janitor’s storage area was just to the left of the staircase. At the right was another door. Mary pushed through the door and entered an older portion of the hospital.
There were no lovely pink-hued walls with tasteful framed works of art hanging at judicious intervals, these walls were stark white and the floors were light linoleum, rather than the soft gray carpet from the floor above. The doors did not have windows, they were plain white commercial doors and, if you didn’t pay attention to the small markers next to them, instead of the marketing department, you could easily walk straight into the morgue.
But that door was exactly what Mary wanted and without a moment’s delay, she opened the door and walked in.
Angela sat behind her desk in the small office at the front of the area. She was wearing a hospital lab coat, but looked to Mary like one of the doctors from a soap opera, perfectly coiffed. Angela looked up when Mary entered the room, smiled and rose immediately. “Mary, it’s good to see you,” she said.
Mary shook her hand and returned the greeting. “I really appreciate you letting me barge in on you,” she said.
Angela smiled, “Oh, no problem. How can I help you?”
“Well, I’m working on a case that involves domestic abuse,” she explained. “The wife has disappeared and we fear the worse. I was wondering if you had any Jane Does over the
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