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you?”
    “I told you. I’m a ghost. My name is Charlie Gentry and I died. Here. In that bed. But I think the real question is: what are you?”
    * * * *
    What was she? Was she crazy? Sick? She must be to talk to ghosts. Bridget covered her face with her hands. None of this was happening. How could it? Ghosts didn’t exist.
    “Will you quit looking so defeated?” Charlie said, pulling Bridget’s hands down. Her eyes glistened. “This is a great day! No one has ever seen me before. I just wondered why you’re different.”
    “Oh, God. I am crazy,” Bridget muttered. Crazy people saw things all the time. But did those things feel real to them? Charlie was as solid as the floor. Well, when they touched. She currently hovered an inch above it.
    “You’re not crazy. I used to be alive. Go ask my brother. He’ll tell you.”
    Her brother? Bridget blinked. Hell’s bells! “You’re Rob’s sister? The one who died?”
    Charlie stepped back. “Yes. Finally!”
    “You expect me to tell Rob about you?”
    “Hell, no! He’ll think you’re crazy.”
    Bridget’s head swam. Her eyes filled with tears and her vision blurred. She didn’t want to be crazy. She just wanted her life back. Not that she deserved it. Maybe this was her punishment for killing Suzie. If she had refused to drive, if she had only said no, she wouldn’t have stalled the vehicle and Suzie would be alive and she’d be sane.
    She walked around Charlie and plopped on the bed. “Why is this happening? Can you go away? Is that all it takes, for me to wish it?”
    “Probably not, but you might be able to help me go away. I figure I’m still around because I was murdered.”
    Murdered? Damn. Rob and Mr. Murdock had never mentioned that. Was that why Rob couldn’t sell the house? “So, what? You’re waiting until they catch the guy?”
    “Uhhh, actually, everyone thinks I committed suicide. But I didn’t. I was killed.”
    “What do you want from me? I’m not a cop. I’m not even a private investigator. I’m just a nurse who isn’t a nurse anymore.”
    “But you don’t have to investigate. Don’t you understand? I already know who killed me. I just need you to find the proof.”
    Okay, sounded easy enough. Find the evidence and the ghost moves on. It was the least she could do, right? Help another murder victim? She certainly hadn’t helped Suzie. Besides, Charlie was Rob’s sister, or so she claimed. “Where is this proof located?”
    “Well…see… I don’t have any.” Charlie’s face lit up. “But Nick might. If you can see me, maybe you can see him, too.”
    Bridget rubbed her temples, trying to alleviate the throbbing pain. Of course there wasn’t any proof. Why would anything be easy? She was a murderer. Murderers didn’t get breaks. “Who’s Nick?”
    “He was my boyfriend. I’m sure he’s still around. That’s if murdered people don’t move on right away, like me.”
    “You’re asking me to go find another ghost when I’m trying to get rid of you?” The throbbing in her head advanced to a hammering blow. The loony bin was looking mighty tempting. Mainly because of all the drugs they gave out. She could use a few right now.
    “Well…yeah. I’m sure Nick knows everything. So, will you do it? Will you go find him?”
    “Listen. I’m having enough problems believing in you. Will you let me decide if you’re real first before I agree to anything?”
    “You won’t take long, will you? I mean, you’re the first person who can—”
    “See you, right. I get it. But right now I want to ignore you. Because I’m sure you’re just a figment of my imagination.” Or a tumor. That was a strong possibility.
    Charlie put her arms akimbo. “I told you, I’m real.”
    No angering the ghost, especially a ghost who could touch her. “Fine. If you are who you say you are, then Rob will have a picture, right? And since I’ve never seen you before…”
    “Yes, he’ll have a picture. He has one in his wallet.”