Marlie's Mystery Man. Doris Rangel
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“It’s allergies,” the voice continued. “I’m allergic to your soap.”
And Marlie could swear that whoever spoke was right beside her. She heard a rustling in the other bed.
With a shriek, she reached out and turned on the light.
Nothing. Even better, no one.
Sinking limply against the pillows, she sighed….
Ker-choo!
And bolted up again.
“If you’d bathe with something besides lavender soap, we’d both be happier,” the voice said.
“Where are you?” Marlie whispered.
“In the bed opposite yours. Don’t get your britches in a knot, lady. I won’t hurt you.”
Throwing back the covers, Marlie bolted for the door, fumbled with the lock, threw the door open and was about to slam it behind her when she realized she heard no pursuit. She paused, uncertain, but stayed poised to immediately run and/or scream, whichever was needed.
Cautiously reaching over, she flipped on the overhead light. How could she describe the intruder to the local badge if she didn’t know what he looked like?
Nothing. No one. Nobody.
“Are…are you there?” she whispered into the seemingly empty room.
“I’m here.”
“Where?”
“I told you. In the other bed.”
The covers on the bed in question rose and fell as if they’d been given a disgusted shake. Marlie’s heartbeat rose and fell with them.
“I’m…I’m going for the police,” she warned, trying to keep the wobble out of her voice.
“Go ahead. If you can explain this to someone you’ll be doing a hell of a lot better than I did today. And Fort Davis doesn’t have police. We make do with a sheriff and a couple of deputies.” Ker-choo!
“You’ve got a sneeze like an atomic blast,” Marlie said dryly. “I don’t think I’ll have much trouble explaining things.”
“Have at it,” the whoever or whatever it was responded, and blew his nose.
Once the woman marched her straight-backed, swishy-bottomed little self out the door, Caid got out of bed, went to the closet and retrieved his jeans. If on the off chance someone could finally see him as well as hear him, he wanted to be decent. He wasn’t holding out much hope, however.
Still, for the first time today he’d actually exchanged conversation with someone. Perhaps whatever the heck it was that had happened to him was starting to wear off.
When Marlie returned, she had Ann with her. After hearing the story, the desk clerk had talked her out of going for the sheriff.
Ann looked around the quiet room. “I don’t see anything or hear anything, Ms. Simms. Are you sure you weren’t dreaming?”
“I hadn’t gone to sleep yet,” Marlie replied shortly. “And I know what I heard. A man talked to me and he sneezed. He said he was allergic to my lavender soap.
“Hey,” she called out to the seemingly empty room, feeling brave now that she had company. “Are you here?”
“I’m here,” the voice answered.
“Where?”
“Standing about three feet in front of you.” Ker-choo!
“There.” Marlie turned to the desk clerk in triumph. “You heard that, didn’t you? I’ll bet people in the next county did, too.”
But Ann merely gazed back at her in confusion. “Ms. Simms, I, uh, didn’t hear anything.”
“Sure you did,” Marlie told the desk clerk bracingly. “That sneeze registered on the Richter scale.”
But by now, even though she wasn’t but a few years older, Ann’s look had turned motherly. She put a comforting arm around Marlie’s shoulders.
“Ms. Simms…Marlie, I think you had too much sunshine and thin mountain air today. You crawl back into bed now, honey, and I’ll bring up a nice cup of herbal tea to help you sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.”
Ker-choo!
“You didn’t hear that?” Marlie asked in a small voice.
“No, sweetie. You get a good night’s rest now and I’ll bet you feel tip-top by tomorrow.”
Marlie sighed. “Perhaps you’re right. But I don’t need any tea. Really. Thanks for coming up, though.”
She walked Ann to the door and was about to shut it behind her when she noticed the bathroom trash basket sitting by the doorway in the hall. In it was her brand-new, used only once, very expensive tablet of lavender soap.
Marlie debated pointing this bit of evidence out to the desk clerk, who was wishing her good-night again, but in the end decided it probably wouldn’t do much good.
After closing the door, she leaned against it to gaze accusingly into her seemingly empty bedroom. “Say something, darn it. I know you’re still here.”
“That makes two of us.”
There was the sound a deep sigh followed by a massive Ker-choo!
“Oh, for goodness’ sake! Do you have to keep doing that? Ghosts aren’t supposed to sneeze.”
“I’m not a ghost.”
“Could’ve fooled me. What are you then?”
“Alive, for one thing. For some reason, people just can’t see me, and so far the only person who can hear me is you.” Ker-choo!
“Well aren’t I just the lucky one,” Marlie said nastily. “How delightful that the whole world now thinks I’m crazy.”
“Not the whole world, just Ann Jergin. But she’s a nice girl. She won’t tell anyone.”
“You know her?”
“Of course I know her. We were in the same grade all through school.”
Marlie frowned in the direction of the voice, now coming from the vicinity of the other bed. In fact, the bed looked a little depressed on one side, as if someone were sitting on it.
“Who are you?” she asked slowly.
“I’ll tell you after you shower. Lifebouy, Irish Spring, Dove. Take your pick. Any scent but lavender.”
“How do I know you won’t float into the shower with me? You might be anywhere for all I know.”
“Lock the damn door,” the voice snapped. “I can’t walk through walls. I already tried.”
“You could be lying.”
“Yes, ma’am, I could. You’re just gonna have to trust me now, aren’t you?”
Why should I, Marlie wanted to ask, but didn’t. A ghost with allergies seemed…trustworthy, in a bizarre sort of way.
Good grief! She was certifiably crazy.
But she headed for the bathroom. Just before she closed and locked the door, however, she stuck her head out again. “Where are you?”
“Here,” he replied, his tone one of long suffering, but the sound of his voice came from the bed. “Now get a move on. I’m tired, I’ve got a hell of a headache and I don’t want to stay up all night yakking.”
What a crab.
When she returned, showering in record time, the woman smelled like nothing but cleanliness. Caid had never thought of eau de clean as erotic before, but as he watched her prance across