Free Dying For You by MaryJanice Davidson Page B

darling…”
    “Nice!” she hollered. “I’m dead and you two are boning—again! Or celebrating life. Whatever. Still, take a breather once in a while, willya? It’s the middle of the day. Besides, how many times can you get her pregnant in a—a—month?”
    How long had it been? Time, she had discovered in death, was a slippery concept. The sun raced across the sky, followed by the moon, and although it only felt like a couple of days, Cathy was already showing.
    She decided, trudging back to the lodge, that as fine as Jack was, if she never saw his hairy crack again, she’d be happy forever.
    Fragrant darling?
    She put the thought out of her mind, quick.

Chapter 5
    “I think we should call a medium.”
    It was chilly in the small hut—the wall unit was going full blast to combat the tropical heat outside—and Cathy pulled a blanket over her legs. “A medium what?”
    “A psychic.”
    “To help us find the body.” It wasn’t a question. Jack had been on the spirit plane for almost a century; it was natural that he would think of such a thing. “Maybe—talk to Nikki?”
    “Maybe. It’s something, anyway. Better than waiting for…better than waiting.”
    She stroked his long thigh. “I guess it sounds like a silly complaint, but three months in paradise is too much. And it’s no fun without Nikki here.”
    “Thanks,” Jack said dryly.
    “I’m sorry, babe. You know what I mean. Everything’s, you know, unfinished. I feel like I’m in limbo.”
    Unseen by both, Nicki stuck her head through the wall and yelled, “
You
feel like you’re in limbo?”
    “Yes,” Jack agreed as if he hadn’t been interrupted. Which, in a way, he hadn’t.
    “Do you know who to call?”
    Nikki popped back in. “Oh, we’re in a rerun of
Ghostbusters
now? ‘Who you gonna call? Nikki-busters!’ ”
    “I mean,” Cathy continued, “how do you find a psychic?”
    “I know exactly who to call—not the medium, but the medium’s intermediate. She can put us in touch. The boy would be”—Jack’s dark eyes narrowed in thought—“well into his thirties. Assuming he’s still in the business.”
    “One way to find out,” Cathy said, and got up to get dressed.
    THREE DAYS LATER
    Nikki was gratified to see Jack and Cathy come out of their cabin after the sun had set. She didn’t want to risk interrupting another (gag) intimate moment and besides, she had high hopes. It was a full moon (again) and if she knew her spooky movies and Ouija board fiction, it was a great time for spirits to speak to the living.
    “Guys!” she said, following them to the lodge. Their footprints sank deep in the sand; she, Nikki observed glumly, leftnone. “It’s still me. Still Nikki. Don’t you think it’s about time you noticed me? You know, if you can stop having sex for five minutes.”
    The lodge van, a tasteful serial-killer gray, pulled into the drive, and her friends hurried to meet it.
    That was weird. There hadn’t been any new guests since—well.
    “Let’s try a new one,” she said, trailing after them like a puppy. “You’ve gotta remember this one, Cath. We worked on our walkovers for six months to get it right. Remember? We went to Michigan with my folks that time and memorized it? Cath? Remember?”
    The van’s engine cut off, and the driver and a lone passenger got out. Nikki, focused on her friends, ignored them.
    She punched a fist through the air and cheered:
    Let’s give a cheer for dear old Traverse
    Come on and boost that score sky high
    And let the north woods ring with glory
    For the tales of Central High.
    She took another breath (force of habit), made a V for victory, clapped, and continued.
    And watch out you who stand against us
    For we’re out to win tonight.
    We’re gonna add to the glory
    Of the—
    “God, will you stop making that noise?” the passenger said, clearly irritated. “I’ve already got a headache from all the plane rides.”
    “What?” Cathy said.
    “What?” Nikki