Authors: Gabrielle Holly
The speakers crackled and Mike said, “Okay folks, take a deep breath and look up.”
Thomas craned his neck and looked up at the coved ceiling. The illusion of a starry night appeared overhead. Thomas felt at once small and limitless at the sight of it. The notion of a boundless universe was not lost on him and he was filled with awe. In a guileless moment he turned and pressed his mouth against Toni’s. Her soft, warm lips opened to him and he allowed himself to get lost in the kiss.
Mike’s voice interrupted them. He’d made his way down from the projection booth and stood on the stage, with Bridget at his side, speaking without the benefit of a microphone. “Does everybody have champagne?”
Thomas and Toni raised their glasses. Toni shouted, “Woo hoo!” and Thomas whistled through his teeth.
Bridget kissed Mike on the cheek and he tugged her close. “I am so grateful to have all of you in my life. We’ve done good things here. Together we’ve restored a piece of history. Your hard work has brought this movie palace back from the dead. This is the realisation of a dream for me. That it was accomplished with the love and devotion of good friends is nothing short of heaven. I love you. I thank you. I share this moment with you.”
Thomas raised his glass and couldn’t help but notice that Mike gave an extra moment of attention to Toni. He didn’t feel threatened or jealous. He was somehow proud that the woman he loved had been the catalyst for so much positive change. He gulped down the champagne and thought for a moment of being alone with her.
Mike cleared his throat. “And now, Bridget, my love, if you would be so kind as to distribute the hors d’ oeuvres.”
Bridget strode off stage left and emerged on the theatre floor with a tray full of hotdogs and accoutrements. “Dig in!” she shouted.
Mike jumped from the stage and joined the others as each customised their snack with onions, mustard and sweet relish. The four took their food and drink and perched on the front of the stage with their feet dangling over the edge.
Toni elbowed Thomas. “You’d better put some onions on that dog, Becker. I’m loading mine up and I fully intend to kiss you tonight.”
Thomas spooned a mound of chopped onions on his frankfurter and tore into it with a feral growl.
“That’s more like it,” Toni said.
Mike uncorked a second bottle of champagne and the four were soon well lubricated. They’d started on their third bottle and had long since disposed of the hotdogs when Bridget pressed her fist against her sternum and unleashed a colossal belch. The drunken redhead flopped back on the stage and dissolved in a fit of giggles.
“That’s my girl,” Mike said and climbed on top of her, showering her freckled face with kisses.
As soon as Thomas and Toni had recovered from their bout of laughter, Toni jumped off the stage and gathered up the food wrappers. “Tomorrow night is the grand opening and we don’t want this place smelling like—well—like O’Malley. I’ll run these out to the dumpster.”
Thomas watched the seductive sway of Toni’s round ass as she sashayed to the alley door. His cock stiffened and he couldn’t wait to get her back to the hotel.
* * * *
Toni’s mind was reeling—from the champagne, from Mike’s admission that he was some kind of supernatural being, from Thomas’ confession that he’d had a lifelong history of ghost encounters and from her own conclusions about her future. She was sure that a jolt of cold winter air was just what she needed to clear her head. Still chuckling at Bridget’s less-than-ladylike display, Toni pushed open the heavy steel door to the alley and propped it open with a broken broom handle. The blast of frigid air cooled her alcohol flushed skin as she hurried to the dumpster, lifted the lid and tossed in the smelly food wrappers. When she turned towards the welcoming warmth of the theatre, an image in the distance caught the corner of her eye. Toni faced the side street and squinted to bring the subject into focus.
Priscilla Stringman stood on the opposite sidewalk with her camera to her eye and Toni reached up to touch the stickpin fastened to the front of her T-shirt. Priscilla’s ghost brought down her camera and seemed to stare directly at Toni. “Priscilla, can you hear me?” Toni whispered. The ghost didn’t answer but in the blink of an eye she was in the alley an arm’s length away.
The ghost’s gaze was far off but Toni persisted. “Priscilla, I can see you. I want to help you. Can you see me? Can you hear me?”
Toni was about to retreat to the warmth of the theatre. She knew it was fruitless to try to communicate with a residual. It was tantamount to spouting off at a television program and expecting the actors to respond. And then she saw the glimmer of recognition in the spectre’s eyes. Priscilla looked at her—not through her—then drew in an audible breath of surprise. “Can you really see me?” she asked.
Toni nodded.
The spirit looked Toni up and down then her gaze settled on the stickpin fastened to Toni’s shirt. “That’s mine! Where did you get that?”
Toni pulled the stopper from the end of the shaft and drew the pin from the fabric. She held it out to Priscilla. “I found it in an antique shop. I felt the energy in it. You can have it back.”
Priscilla bowed and her shoulders jerked as the sobs overtook her. She slowly shook her head. “I can’t take it. Don’t you know I’m dead and gone? You keep it. I have no use for it here.”
Toni reached out to soothe the ghost and her fingers passed right through her.
Priscilla’s face was the picture of regret. “I am so weary of this. Night and day for years and years I walk the same path. Up Third Street, right on Main, left again. I take the pictures. I wave at the people waiting in line to see the show. I take more pictures. It never ends. I just want to rest.”
The tears tumbled from Toni’s eyes, tracing a frozen path down her cheeks. “Please Priscilla, please tell me what I can do.”
“My things…they took my things. They stood on the lawn and bid on them then they packed them in an automobile and took them to that building where you found my pin.” The ghost reached out and stroked the pin in Toni’s upturned palm. An icy river flowed up her arm. “But there’s more,” the ghost said. “They took my pictures—all of them.”
Toni fought to keep her composure. The information this spirit gave her could very well fulfil her promise to Kip. “Priscilla, is there something special—something important—in those pictures?”
Priscilla jerked her head to the right then looked back at Toni with a terrifying combination of fear and excitement. “I have to go. The fire is starting. I have to get the shot. I’ll win an award. They’ll remember me forever. I have to go. I have to go. I have to…”
An enormous vacuum of air jerked Toni forward and sucked the air from her lungs. Her ears popped and her eyes felt as if they were being pulled from their sockets. She fell to her knees in the snow-dusted alley and had to plant her palms on the ground to steady herself. The painful suction subsided with a subtle puff and she dropped her head below her shoulders for a moment, gasping until her lungs refilled with air. Still on all fours, Toni slowly raised her head and looked across the street. Priscilla was once again caught up in the never-ending loop—walking, shooting, waving, shooting again.
Toni pulled in three more deep breaths then forced herself to her feet. She brushed the snow from her jeans then staggered through the metal door. With nothing more than sheer willpower she made her way to the centre of the theatre and faced the stage. Thomas, Bridget and Mike stopped laughing and stared at her. She could tell they were frightened and she was glad.
“He didn’t do it!” Toni gasped.
“Who didn’t do what?” Bridget asked jumping from the stage.
Toni fought to remain conscious. “Kip Monroe—he didn’t set the fire.”
Bridget reached out and touched Toni’s arm. “Can you prove it?”
“There’s a witness. Now come on!”
Thomas rubbed his forehead and shouted after Toni, “Who’s the witness?”
Toni held open the swinging door. “Priscilla Stringman.”
Mike laughed, “Yeah, well she’s been dead for twenty years and the police don’t usually take statements from ghosts.”
Toni grabbed his sleeve and dragged him through the lobby. “No, but photographic evidence is pretty compelling.”
She could hear Thomas and Bridget grousing as the three followed her out of the building.
“Where’s she going?” Thomas asked.
“No idea. Just follow her. She looks like she’s got a plan,” Bridget answered.
“Doesn’t she always?” muttered Thomas.
* * * *
The three followed Toni up the sidewalk, until she stopped in front of The Antique Emporium. She reached out for the tarnished brass knob.
“Um, Tone, we’re not welcome here. Remember?” Bridget said.
“Screw that,” Toni answered and yanked open the heavy oak door.
“We’re closing,” said the plump woman behind the counter, without looking up from her magazine.
“Five minutes,” Toni said, “five minutes and we’ll be out of your hair.”
The woman looked up. “Oh! It’s you! No, no, no. Uh-uh. Out you go or I’m calling the cops.”
Toni set her hands on her round hips. “Now you listen here, you…”
Thomas grabbed Toni’s upper arm and held her back. Bridget watched as Toni’s lips pressed into a straight line and her chest heaved with each breath. Thomas nodded to Mike who stepped forward, looped his arms around the indignant medium’s waist and took over Toni-wrangling duties.
Thomas put on his best ‘charming television star’ face and sauntered up to the counter. He reached out and laid his big hand on the shopkeeper’s fleshy wrist. “Jean, isn’t it?”
Bridget bit back a grin as the woman’s face flushed. “Yes.”
“Jean, I am truly sorry for any…concern our last visit might have caused you. You have a beautiful place here. You know, I’ve travelled the world and I can say—without hesitation—that this is the finest antiques shop I’ve ever had the pleasure of visiting. I’ve been to all the great cities—Paris, London, Rome—and never have I laid eyes on such a gem.”
The woman cleared her throat. “And?”
“Well Jean, as you know, our millions of viewers are true connoisseurs of treasures from the past…”
“Go on.”
Thomas broadened his beautiful smile. “It would be my honour—no, my duty—to make sure that all those fine folks knew about your wonderful little shop. Now, if you would just give us a few minutes to poke around, I’d be glad to place your banner ad on the home page of our website for a full month.”
Thomas cocked his head as if awaiting Jean’s answer. She pulled back her hand and crossed her arms over her ample bosom. “Three months and a credit at the end of the episode.”
Thomas thrust out his hand. “Done!”
Jean shook on the deal then narrowed her eyes and leaned in to whisper, “You just make sure that one stays out of trouble. I don’t want her making a mess of the place.”
Bridget snapped her attention to Toni who was drawing in a breath as if to speak. She saw Mike’s grip tighten around her waist as he forced a smile. “No problem. We’ll keep a close eye on her.” He turned and spoke directly into Toni’s ear. “Where to, boss?”
“The photo albums,” Toni replied through clenched teeth.
Jean said, “Upstairs, back left corner.”
Mike wisely tugged Toni away from the entryway and the four hurried towards the wide carpeted staircase.
“Five minutes and I’ve got security cameras you know!” Jean shouted after them.
Toni took the stairs two at a time and hurried to the display at the back corner of the top floor. Two barrister’s bookcases were filled to overflowing with photo albums in various states of decay. She could feel the gaze of three pairs of eyes boring into her back.
“Five minutes, Tone,” Bridget said softly.
“I know. I know. Just give me a minute,” Toni snapped. A snarl of nervous energy gathered in her belly. “Knock it off you guys! Your tension is blocking me.”
Mike shouldered up beside Toni and bent forward to scan the dozens of albums. “Which one is it?”
Toni turned to him and summoned up her best expression of incredulity. “Seriously, Briggs?”
She heard Bridget’s even voice over her other shoulder. “Back up, Mike. Give her some room. Is there anything we can do to help, Toni?”
Toni shook her head. “I don’t know. If I could just…you’re just…the energy from you guys is kind of overwhelming. Maybe if you all went back downstairs.”
Thomas stepped up and pressed his lips to Toni’s temple. “Okay. We’ll go. Call if you need us.”
Toni nodded. She wanted them to stay, but she knew she’d leave empty-handed if she had to fight through the waves of worry that rolled off them.
She listened to their footsteps fade and heard Mike whisper, “Man! I should have brought the equipment.”
When she was alone she concentrated on breathing slowly and deliberately in through her nose and out through her mouth. She scanned the shelves in front of her, waiting for one of the battered spines to glow, or shake, or give some indication which she should choose. She wished there were a manual on how to harness her psychic energy.
Five minutes. Probably more like two now.
Trying to ignore her time limit, she stood in front of the jammed shelves and tried to noodle out the best way to proceed.
One at a time.
Toni positioned herself at the edge of the leftmost case and stretched out her arm. She touched the first book on the top shelf then closed her eyes. She slowly dragged her fingertip across the top line of albums until she was stopped by the edge of the shelf. Forcing herself to keep her eyes closed, she moved to the adjacent case and followed its top row. When she felt nothing, she dropped her hand to the second shelf and repeated the process, this time from right to left. When she’d passed the divide and had reached the middle of the left shelf, she thought she might give up and try a different tack.
Her arm began to tingle as if falling asleep. The urge to pull away and shake circulation back into her limb was almost overwhelming, but she pressed on, sweeping over each binding and concentrating on the feel of the material. Leather. Burlap. Velvet…