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

“His business partner,” Dennis hissed. “I think I’m onto something here, and if I can work out Evy’s involvement, I might be able to solve this thing.”

“She’s haunting a chair because of some bloke her dad knew?”

“I told you I don’t have time to explain!” Dennis snapped. “Just go and ask, will you?” Bobo held up his hands in mock surrender.

“Right, anything you say, boss. I’ll just tell you when I bring in the check, shall I?”

“Fine, sure, whatever.”

Dennis hurried back to the table, and ground his teeth in irritation as he saw that Evy’s transparent form was no longer waiting for him. Perfect. He had been gone all of thirty seconds, if that, but it had apparently been enough time for Evy to lose interest. By now, he supposed, she would have completely forgotten about him, and their conversation as well. He could always run through it again, like a take from a film, but there was no guarantee that it would work a second time. Or that he could even remember everything that he had said. With a scowl and an irate sigh, Dennis trudged from the room.

It was a short walk from the living room to the entry hall, and Dennis managed to catch up with Bobo just before the man ducked through a doorway.

“Something else, sir?” Bobo asked, stopping in mid-stride.

“Shove it,” Dennis growled. “She’s gone. I took too long. Where were you?”

Bobo gestured carefully, and Dennis noticed a glass of water clutched in the bigger man’s hand. “The lady asked for a drink, so I went to get her one. I didn’t get around to asking about her daddy’s lover.”

“Don’t say that,” said Dennis tersely. “It isn’t a joking matter.”

“What was that, Dennis?” came a voice from the den. Dennis brushed past Bobo into a cozy sitting room, furnished with brown armchairs that were almost identical to Evy’s. Elspeth was sitting on a matching couch, and a low marble table stood in the center of the space. The rows of dark, well-stocked bookshelves that lined the walls gave off a feeling of aged and opulent comfort, much like the rest of the house.

“Evy’s gone,” Dennis sighed. He moved over as Bobo entered the room and handed the glass of water to Elspeth.

“Well, that would make continuing your date rather difficult,” she said. She took a long swallow before placing the glass on the table. Dennis saw his phone there too, along with Elspeth’s ashtray. “Although, you might be able to start again where you left off.”

“Do you think she’ll remember me?” Dennis asked hopefully. Elspeth’s shrug was less than encouraging.

“She might. Her memory seems up to her whim, but I’ve never seen it last beyond an hour or so.”

Dennis glanced at Bobo, who returned his gaze quizzically. “Are there any exceptions?” Dennis questioned. “Anything she retains no matter what?”

“Nothing that I’m aware of,” replied Elspeth. She coughed suddenly, erupting into a restrained fit. “Excuse me,” she said, taking another drink. Her hand shook slightly as she replaced the glass, splashing a few drops onto Dennis’ phone.

“Elspeth,” Dennis began tentatively, “what was your father like after your sister died?”

“A bit distant, really,” replied Elspeth matter-of-factly. She coughed again once and cleared her throat. “He still did commissioned art pieces from time to time, but the fire seemed to have left him. Of course, one can never be sure, since I didn’t really know him before Evy’s death.” She continued speaking, anticipating Dennis’ next question. “My mother was largely the same, right up until the end. Father died shortly after her.”

“Did you ever see any of the pieces your father did?”

A lopsided smile crossed Elspeth’s face as she replied. “What a strange question. Yes, I saw a few of them. I don’t have any, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Not exactly,” Dennis said. He chose his next words carefully, not wanting to upset the woman. “Something that Evy said made we wonder, though. Do you remember your father’s business partner at all?”

“Oh, yes, I should say so.” Elspeth patted at her bathrobe until she found a rumpled package of cigarettes in one pocket. She offered one to Bobo, who declined, and one to Dennis, who hesitantly accepted. “I never knew him personally,” continued Elspeth, “but he was around often enough.” She lit her cigarette with a practiced motion, and then passed the lighter to Dennis.

“What was his role, do you know? In your father’s business, I mean.” Dennis lit his own cigarette and inhaled shallowly. The smoke did little to calm his nerves, but at least his hands were occupied. Elspeth shook her head quietly, tapping the end of her cigarette into the ashtray.

“I was never clear on that,” she responded. “They had something of a falling out after Evy died.”

“Why?” Dennis asked. “What happened?”

“Again, I really couldn’t say.” Elspeth took another drag and exhaled, punctuating her words with tendrils of smoke. “If I had to guess, I would say that it was because of Evy’s medicine.”

“Medicine?” Dennis’ brow furrowed. “You didn’t tell me that she was taking anything. What kind of medicine?”

“Insulin,” said Elspeth plainly. “Evy was diabetic.”

“So, back when you told me that she was unhealthy...?”

“Oh, yes,” replied Elspeth. “I’m sorry, I thought I’d mentioned it.”

It was a new piece to the puzzle, and Dennis was beginning to get a sense of a larger picture forming. He tapped off his cigarette and left it smoldering in the ashtray. “What did your father’s partner have to do with it?”

“This is speculation, you understand,” replied Elspeth, “but I suspect that we were in the United States illegally at first. I remember we left England in quite a rush, although I expect anything new seems chaotic to a child.”

“Cor, I get it.” Bobo spoke up for the first time since entering the room. “Your dad’s partner was American, was he?” He stepped forward and gestured between Elspeth and Dennis. “So, he’d get the medicine for Evy. I mean, if your family couldn’t get it, being