Free The First Ghost by Nicole Dennis

its concrete walkway. All the houses were uniformly tidy with brown brick facades and hedges stretched across the front yards like green mustaches. Suburban paradise. I’d rather die than live here. Give me the anonymity of the city over the forced chumminess of the ’burbs any day.
    I parked at the curb and mentally girded my loins. At least at this time of day Ellie’s perfect hubby and perfect daughters would be gone. The front window curtains fluttered. I had been spotted.
    I trotted up to the door, which opened before I could knock.
    Eleanor’s hair hung in a smooth red pageboy. I could probably blow-dry mine out the same way if I spent a small fortune on curl-relaxers and round brushes and an ionic dryer. Probably.
    “This is quite a surprise.” Her expression smoothed when she saw Billy at my heels. “What a precious little dog!” She squatted down. “Hello, baby.” Billy wagged all over and flopped, presenting his belly for rubbing. “Aren’t you the cutest? Come in, Portia, and I’ll get a treat for this little angel. It’s much too cold for him. Why doesn’t he have a sweater on?”
    “Everyone’s a dog expert today.”
    She didn’t seem to be expecting anybody, and yet Eleanor had a pot of coffee and a coffee cake on the ready. That’s how they do things in the ’burbs. We sat at the blond oak table with a tasteful winter arrangement featuring plastic berries and a cardinal so realistic I wondered if Eleanor had added taxidermy to her list of accomplishments.
    “I assume this isn’t purely a social visit?” She sipped her coffee, swirling the hazelnut creamer until her coffee was an even beige. “What is it you want?”
    “It could be a social visit. I’m not looking for money or anything like that.”
    She arched an eyebrow. “You never visit. Don’t think I’m being rude, but the girls will be home from school soon. Julia and Trinity have violin, and Mackenzie has ballet. The dance studio is completely across town from the music studio, of course. I simply divined a need for guidance.” She took a little sip and primly set the cup on a coaster depicting an idyllic snowy scene. “So spill.”
    I gave her a carefully edited version of my week, starting with the bump on my head. “And when I woke up, I saw dead people.” I heard a sharp intake of breath.
    “I can’t believe you didn’t call me right away.”
    “It was...it was the bump on my head. I wasn’t thinking clearly.” I didn’t mention the extent of my ability. It would only antagonize her and I needed her help.
    “Can you hear the dead? Do they speak to you?” She leaned forward.
    “Hah! Try getting them to shut up.” I omitted Hephzibah and the demons and Reclaimers. I did tell her about Corinne’s murder and her reluctance to cross over.
    To her credit, Eleanor listened intently, only stopping me occasionally with a question. “And you need my help solving this girl’s murder?”
    “I don’t actually intend to try and play Nancy Drew. I just want to talk to the detective and...I don’t know...assure Corinne it’s being taken seriously. I don’t even know how to approach the police about this.”
    Ellie sipped her coffee with great satisfaction. “So you naturally thought of my police connections.”
    “That’s it exactly. I was hoping you had an in, that you could give me a name.”
    “I’ll go to the station with you.”
    I shifted on the seat cushions with little bows wound decoratively around the chair back. “That isn’t necessary.”
    “Nonsense. You need my help. I loathe phone conversations. I always deal with the police in person. You simply can’t pick up any sort of vibe over the phone.”
    This wasn’t a battle I could win. I agreed to meet her tomorrow afternoon for a trip to find the detective on Corinne’s case.
    Ellie’s glance strayed to the window and the hearse parked at her curb. “I’ll drive,” she said. “You’ll also need my talents, of course.”
    “I’m not