Jillian Chantal

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?”

This week, the writers of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt slow. I’m working on the same story as the last weeks. Our heroine and hero are in his car driving toward her house.

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“So what’s the next step then?”

“I have a ton of reports to read through from all those witness statements taken by uniformed officers last night. Can take you home.”

“Might as well. Aneto probably would like a walk and the afternoon parade should already be underway so we should have a clear path past Garden Street.”

“Glad you reminded me about the parade. I’d normally turn on Palafox to get to your house and we’ll need to go on past there to Alcaniz.”

“That’s actually the way I’d go to my house. More of straight shot.”

“Not from Cervantes.”

Lu shook her head. “You go ahead and tell yourself that.”

He grinned over at her. “I like Palafox as it’s straight down and one turn. Your way is more convoluted.”

“Let’s just agree to disagree.”

Malcolm drove on and they were soon where Mobile Highway and Cervantes Street merged. “I swear, people drive crazy on this stretch of road. It’s a thirty-five zone and not one car out here is going that speed.”

“Including you.” Lu laughed.

“Going with the flow here.”

“Flip on that dashboard light and see how fast they slow down.”

“Tempting, but no. If I do that, I’ll have to pull at least one over. Last week, an officer flipped his basically to get out of a traffic jam and someone reported him. He got a reprimand.”

“Well, I have to say I agree with that. No one who is in a position of authority should abuse it that way. Especially since regular people like me still have to sit in traffic.”

Malcolm’s phone rang. He pushed the button from the cradle where the phone sat in order to answer hands free. “Godfrey.”

“Malcolm, it’s Chris. We have another body.”

Malcolm’s face went white. “Same as the others?”

“Yeah. Exactly. Beads and Moon Pies as well as garroting.”