Nearly Departed, Max Schlienger [the gingerbread man read aloud txt] 📗

“I understand that part,” Bobo said. “I wear a costume too, remember?”

“Oh, right.”

“I just don’t see why you bother at all. I mean, it’s not like he’s lacking in business, is he?” Bobo tilted his head towards the closed office door.

“The way he explained it to me,” Dennis said, “is that there’s this untapped group of people who usually have more money than sense.”

“Yeah, believing in ghosts?” Bobo replied sarcastically. “Who’d be dumb enough to do that?”

“Shut up. Evy is the exception that proves the rule.”

Bobo opened his mouth answer, but the sound of a lock turning interrupted him. Dennis watched as the door to Harding’s office swung open, and he immediately leaned back to hide behind Bobo when he recognized the person walking through it.

“I think we’ve made some excellent progress today, Moon,” said Harding’s voice. The bespectacled man was following the overweight (and still jewelry-laden) woman from several nights back. Dennis slouched down as far as he could, hoping that Bobo’s larger form would hide him from view. The woman made enthusiastic small talk with Harding before finally being led to and practically forced out the door of the office.

“Well, she is certainly an interesting case,” Harding sighed. He turned to face the waiting area and gave Dennis a smile. “Although, you already knew that, didn’t you?” He glanced over at Bobo for a moment and his eyes narrowed slightly, but beyond that he showed no reaction to the man’s presence. “Well, Dennis,” he continued, “if you’d like to step into my office, we can discuss this matter of pressing urgency you mentioned.” Dennis rose and followed Harding through the door to the inner sanctum, leaving Bobo to contemplate the explicit painting in the waiting room.

“A friend of yours?” Harding asked as he closed the door.

“Yeah, I suppose,” answered Dennis. “Look, we really need to talk about this whole private detective business. Something isn’t right.”

“Why do you say that?” Harding asked. He passed by his usual chair and instead took a seat on the leather couch against the room’s far wall. “Has he been bothering you?”

“Well, he…” Dennis paused. “Yes, he’s been bothering me. He showed up at the bar the other day, and then he abducted me this morning.”

“Really? Well, that’s a touch on the excessive side.”

“Only a touch, huh?” Dennis scoffed. “Come on, Sam, spill it. What’s going on between you and that guy?”

“I think a better question,” Harding countered, “might be for me to ask you the same thing.”

Dennis folded his arms and stared down at the psychiatrist. “I never had any trouble with a job before that guy showed up at your office, and now suddenly I’m looking over my shoulder so often that my neck is stiff.”

“This is about a job, then?” asked Harding with a raised eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware that you had taken a new one.”

“Yeah, well, I hadn’t gotten around to telling you about it yet,” Dennis replied. “Besides, it’s not going to pan out.”

“Why do you say that? I did ask you to stay in close contact about your next meeting, did I not?”

Dennis gritted his teeth. “Look, can we please discuss this business with the cop?” Harding parted his hands and bowed in a gesture of acquiescence. “Thank you.” Dennis closed his eyes for a moment and took a breath. “I’m a fairly normal guy,” he stated, looking back at Harding. “This whole paranormal consultant business was supposed to be research for my next book, and I only started with it because you talked me into it. I didn’t count on getting shot at by Shaft.”

“He shot at you?” Harding asked, obviously surprised.

“No, but he might graduate to that. He did take my picture. Twice!” he ended, feeling a bit flustered.

Harding sat in silence, an unreadable expression on his face. “What does this have to do with your latest job, Dennis?”

“Nothing!” Dennis spat. “Nothing at all! I’m working with this lady who has a haunted chair, of all things, and suddenly this Spinner character won’t leave me alone!” He walked in tight circles around the office, navigating around the desk and chairs in a meandering path that mirrored that of his thoughts. “I don’t know how he found out who I am, and I don’t know why he gives a damn about what I’m doing, but I have a sneaking suspicion that it has something to do with you!” He punctuated his last statement with an accusatory jab of his finger. Harding stared at the outstretched digit, and then leaned to look at its owner.

“A haunted chair, you say?”

Dennis fought the urge to kick the couch. Fortunately, his all-too-recent encounter with exploding furniture kept him from any brash actions. “Damn it, Sam,” Dennis growled, “what the hell is going on?”

Harding removed his glasses and polished them on his sweater. “I told you already,” he responded quietly. “A patient of mine claimed that her daughter was seeing –”

“Ghosts, I remember,” Dennis interrupted. “That’s all well and good, but what does it have to do with me? It sounds like a pretty big coincidence.”

“Trust me when I say that I haven’t the faintest idea, Dennis,” Harding said. “It could be Mr. Spinner believes that you are somehow involved in the business with his niece.”

“How?” demanded Dennis. “You said that it had nothing to do with me! You’re the psychiatrist, you tell me what he’s thinking!”

“While I am a psychiatrist, Dennis,” Harding said pointedly, “I am only qualified to help the mentally unsound, not predict what they might believe.” He folded his hands in front of his face. “Even so, the idea has some merit. I don’t imagine Spinner to be the most stable of individuals, and a fantasy of that nature is possibly the sort of thing that a deranged mind might concoct.”

“Great,” Dennis muttered. He sank into a chair and shuffled to face it towards Harding. “So what am I supposed to do?”

“If ever you’re uncomfortable with this,” Harding began softly, leaning