Read Fourth Grave Beneath My Feet for Free Online Page B

nurse. Still, I could definitely see her as a teacher. She would’ve made a great
     one. “I hope all your dreams come true, Harper.”
    “Thank you,” she said in surprise. “I hope yours do, too.”
    I offered an appreciative smile. “Most of mine involve a man who is more trouble than
     he’s worth, but it’s a nice thought.”
    She laughed softly, covering her mouth with a hand. Her mouth was too pretty to be
     covered.
    We stepped inside Pari’s shop. She had a desk up front, but her office sat in the
     back, past the studio, a corner space the size of a moth’s testicles with a nice view
     of the Dumpster across the alley. I heard a few huffing sounds coming from underneath
     the desk, so I strolled in, half hoping to catch her doing something illicit. Her
     apprentice was hot.
    She had computer guts scattered over her desk. Wires and gadgets of all shapes and
     sizes littered every available inch of counter space.
    It seemed like every time I walked into her parlor, she was busy with something technical,
     which seemed to go against the grain of her artistic nature. Then again, she always
     was a little grainy.
    A thumping sound wafted toward me, eliciting an evil grin. I was such a perv. “Hey,
     Par,” I said, hitching a hip onto her desk to peer over it nonchalantly.
    After a mighty struggle that involved a sharp crack and a few gurgling sounds, she
     popped her head up. Her hair, a thick black mop that some would call a mess while
     others—namely me—would call a work of art, seemed to have grown attached to the wires
     she was working on. She spit out a microscopic piece of plastic while fishing the
     wires out of her do with one hand and shielding her eyes with the other.
    “Fucking hell, Charley.” She closed her eyes and felt around her desk blindly for
     her sunglasses. Pari had been able to see what normal folk referred to as ghosts since
     she’d had a near-death experience when she was twelve. She couldn’t make out the shapes
     or communicate with the departed. She just saw them as a gray mist, so she always
     knew when one was near.
    But me she could see from a mile away. My brightness seemed to grate on her. It was
     funny.
    After inching her sunglasses away from her reach a third time, she opened her eyes
     and glared at me. It must have been painful. I could only hope she didn’t have a hangover.
    She sighed and ducked back under the desk.
    “Is your guy down there with you?” I asked.
    “My guy?” She grunted, apparently trying to reach something. “I don’t have a guy.”
    “I thought you had a guy.”
    “I don’t have a guy.”
    “You have an apprentice.”
    “That’s not a guy. That’s Tre.”
    “Who is a guy.”
    “But not that kind of guy. How did you get in here? My office door was locked.”
    “No it wasn’t.”
    She popped her head back out and glanced around. “Really? It should have been locked.”
    After she ducked back down, I asked, “Why? What are you doing?”
    “… Nothing.”
    She’d hesitated far too long. She was totally up to something. I leaned over to inspect
     her work. “Looks to me like you’re rewiring your phone line.”
    “No, I’m not,” she said defensively. “Why would I do that?”
    If liars were the main course at a Shriners convention, she’d be a pork chop.
    “Okay, fine, don’t tell me. I need to leave a client with you a few days. Can we use
     your spare room?”
    “There’s only a couch, but it’s comfortable.”
    “That’ll work. This is Harper. Harper, this is Pari.”
    “Hey, Harper,” she said, but before Harper could respond, a shower of sparks lit the
     area. A rustling sounded from under the desk and was followed by a solid thud as Pari
     slammed into the underside of it for the umpteenth time.
    Doubtful that phone lines sparked like that, I leaned over again. “Seriously, what
     are you doing?”
    “Did you see a spark?”
    “I’m going to show Harper to her room. Try not to kill yourself before