Jillian Chantal

This week, the writer of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt Harsh. My main character is in the morgue talking to a murder victim.

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She glanced around and finally noticed an open closet door. Now the dilemma was how she could investigate the area without giving herself away. Broussard paid attention to pretty much everything happening in his morgue so she knew he’d spot her move in that direction.

She sidled over toward the closet with a glance over at Malcolm, hoping he could read her cue.

He clearly understood the assignment. As she heard him say, “What about his clothes? Did you send them all over to forensics? Or do you have any here you can show me anything about? Was there anything that would help ID him?”

Broussard moved to the table near the wall, effectively turning his back on Lu. “I didn’t keep much. Just the socks and underwear. I removed some hairs from there to run the DNA and the tech got some from his head as well. To compare to see if there were any other donors of hair on the body. No results yet, but hopefully there will be something.”

“And no wallet at all?”

“Nope. Nope. Nothing.”

Lu whispered into the closet. “I’m here to help you. You can communicate with me if you want.”

Praying Malcolm would continue to keep the coroner busy, she whispered again. “Please let me know your name. We’re trying hard to find who killed you. Your name will let us learn about you and who might want to hurt you.”

A face eased its way around the corner of the closet door. “My name is Marcus Williams. I don’t know who did this to me.”

“Can you describe the person? Man or woman? Tall? Short? Dark or light hair?”

“No. Nothing. I never saw them. Came up behind me and then I was choking and fighting the person off. Without success as you can see.” He shuddered. “I can’t stand looking at myself that way. I’m hiding here since I don’t know who did this and I’m terrified the person will come back.”

Lu hated to break it to Marcus that he didn’t need to be afraid of anyone ever again. The worst had already happens to him, but she’s talked to enough spirits to know they were sometimes not ready to hear harsh truths so close to their time of death.

“Okay. You can stay there with no problem. But do you remember where you were found? Did you see the person who did this when your spirit rose?” She didn’t want to say “left your body” as that was kind of harsh too.

“I saw the person but they had on a bulky jacket. One of those with the puffy stuff. The person also had on a balaclava and hood. I wouldn’t know them again if they walked in here. That’s what scares me.”

Welcome to Tuesday Tales! This week we are writing to the word prompt ride. I am still in my ghostly story.

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“What’s going on?” Malcolm had arrived at her side.

“I just got flipped off by a ghost.” She chuckled. “First time for everything, I guess.”

“I take it you weren’t successful in getting any information from him then?”

“His name is Brandon. No idea of his last name. He thinks I’m an old woman who wants to stalk him and he has some connection to the television station.”

Malcolm grinned. “Well that is a little bit of info.” He tilted his head and his grin widened. “A stalker, huh? I guess I can see that.”

“Don’t you dare call me old.” She swatted his chest. “Just remember, if I’m old, you’re old too since you were born before me.”

“Never old. Always cute.” He leaned close. “So cute, I’d kiss you right now if I wasn’t on duty and supposed to be in charge of this crime scene. It wouldn’t be a good look to have a display of affection but be assured, there is a kiss in your future. From me. Not the guy you want to stalk.”

“If I was a stalker, I’d choose you.”

“I’m honored.”

Lu got serious. “That young man, Brandon, is going to have hard reality hit him as soon as the coroner takes his body from this scene. If he hasn’t gone to the light—which I don’t believe he will since he doesn’t believe he’s dead—his spirit will travel to the morgue and he’ll be in shock.”

“There’s nothing you can do about that. We’ll get over there at some point and then you can see about continuing the conversation you tried to have here.”

“That’s all I can do.” She glanced around. “And now, to get home, we’re going to be in the thick of the parade traffic.”

“We’ll go north to go south. A few blocks out of the way and then I’ll have you home. Then I’ll head back here to continue the investigation.”

“I can walk. It’s only a mile or two.”

Malcolm touched her nose. “Nope. You’re already too cold. I see that red nose.”

She snapped her fingers. “Oh yeah. I forgot, that witness, Lisa, has a jerk of a boyfriend who left her here. I told her we’d give her a ride home.”

He handed Lu his keys. “Perfect. You take her and yourself. When I’m done here, I’ll get a ride to the station and you can pick me up there.”

Welcome to Tuesday Tales. This week we’re writing to the word prompt sharp. The heroine is talking to a ghost who still likes to work at the television station.

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“I’m Lula Mae Haverstock. Nice to meet you, Jed.”

“What brings you to my corner of the studio? It’s not my desk any longer, but I borrow it when the guy who took my place isn’t here.” Jed laughed. “Sometimes he comes in and wonders about what’s happened while he’s gone. I can’t move his things, but I do manipulate the computer. It’s like he can sense someone’s been using his desk and machine.”

“I was wondering if you knew of Paul. The engineer who just started working here recently.”

“Obviously, I didn’t know him in life and never spoke to him, but I did see him around. He seemed sharp and had a lot of potential as a sound engineer.”

“Sadly, he was killed last night or yesterday afternoon.”

“I heard some folks talking about that. Tragic. He was young and bright. He had a future here for sure. What do you know about what happened?”

“I’m helping in the investigation and we heard some rumors about a possible group or a couple of people working together to take equipment and sell it on the sly. We think it may have something to do with Paul’s death.” She shrugged. “Or maybe not, but it’s a start in our quest to find who killed him. There’s another tie to the studio in that another young man was killed in the same manner. That man was the former boyfriend of Jennifer Adkins.”

Jed made a face at the mention of the television host’s name. “That woman.”

While Lu agreed with that assessment, she wanted to know what Jed based his on. “What makes you say that?”

“Have you met her yet?”

“I have.”

“Then you know.” He faced the computer screen and blinked. A photo of Jennifer showed up. “Look in her eyes.”

Lu leaned forward and peered at the host’s face. “Okay. What am I supposed to notice?”

“Her eyes. They’re dead. She puts on a show to be happy and upbeat, but if you look in her eyes, you’ll see something is missing. She has no real empathy with other people. I’ve even seen her eyes go black completely when she’s displeased with someone or something. It’s like she is a snake in disguise as a sweet, fairy princess. It’s blood chilling.”

As someone who’d seen that switch off from sweet to nasty and back to sweet in a nanosecond, Lu knew exactly what he meant. “I’ve seen her make that switch. It was stunning.”

“More like scary. She might just be the one who did it—killed Paul.”

Time for Tuesday Tales again. This week, the authors are writing to the word prompt White. I am still in my ghost story. Our heroine is talking to a new nurse on her floor.

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“Not someone. Some thing.” Anne’s face was pale

“What’s that?”

In response, Anne sat hard in the chair. She put her head in her hands and sobbed. “This young guy flipped his car. They took him to surgery and it all looked good, but then he just closed a few minutes ago. I was watching as they worked on him, praying he’d be okay. But he’s not.” Anne looked up, tears streaking her face. “I don’t think I’m cut out for this. Maybe I need to be on the obstetrics floor instead. All that new life. I’m not cut out for death.”

Lu knelt beside the girl’s chair. “Let me tell you, sadly, there is the possibility of death on every floor of this hospital. A death in that particular area hits extra hard.”

“Then maybe I’m not meant to be a nurse at all.”

“You did practice rounds on different levels in school, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” Anne took a shuddering breath. “And I loved the work but I wasn’t faced with this at all. The reality is, I don’t think I can handle this.”

“Can I tell you a little story?” Lu stood and walked around her desk and took a seat.

“Of course.”

Lu slid a box of tissues across the desk. “Dry your tears and sit up.”

When Anne was situated, Lu opened her desk drawer and pulled out a small box. She slid that across the desk toward the young nurse in the same path as the tissue box took.

Anne opened the box and looked down. “This is lovely with the green and white striped ribbon. Looks like an Army bird on the medal. What is this?”

“It’s an Army Commendation Medal. It’s awarded for heroism, meritorious service, or meritorious achievement.”

Anne picked it up out of the case. “It’s beautiful. Who does it belong to?”

Lu shrugged. “Me.”

Eyes wide, Anne said, “You were in the Army? What did you do that was heroic?”