The Ghost Shrink, the Accidental Gigolo & the Poltergeist Accountant Read Online Free PDF Page B

embarrassment out of her voice. “So, she, uh, she…” Lucy coughed and cleared her throat. “She…that is…ah…”
    “Fucked me to death like a praying mantis. Murder mid-coitus. Bitch didn’t even let me come first.”
    Lucy choked. This was a whole new level of sexual frustration. “So, you, uh, you know who did it?”
    “Who murdered me? Big Joe Morrissey, probably.”
    He said it so matter-of-factly that Lucy was momentarily taken aback. Like he was talking about the results of a ballgame that was of no personal interest to him. It was only his murder, after all. Then she realized what he had said.
    “Joe?” Something wasn’t adding up here.
    “Yep,” Eliot said mournfully. “Candy never opens her legs without Big Joe’s say so. I thought he was rewarding me, but I guess that was just wishful thinking. Poisoned pussy.”
    Lucy felt her eyes bulging out. “Poisoned?”
    “Figure of speech,” Eliot assured her. “She stabbed me with this needle thing she pulled out of her hair.” He continued before she could formulate a coherent sentence. “It sucks, I guess. Being dead.”
    Lucy pulled herself together, blocking out the Fatal Attraction film reel running in her mind. “Right. You’re right. It sucks. And I’d like to talk to you about that. Um, in a minute. Right now, there’s someone else who needs to talk to you. About Big Joe Morrissey.”
    Eliot heaved a dramatic sigh. “I figured you were only talking to me because of Big Joe. Just like her.”
    Lucy hadn’t ever been compared to a murdering fuck-puppet before, but she tried not to take it personally. Death could be very trying, so she gave Eliot the benefit of the doubt. She smiled sincerely and swore, “Eliot, it isn’t like that at all. You are my primary concern. It’s just there is someone else who needs your help. With Big Joe.”
    “Uh-huh.” Eliot muttered, clearly not believing a word of it. He eyed her forlornly. “I should have known a super-hot girl like you would never be interested in me for me.”
    Lucy knew that she should not have been flattered by that comment. She should have been immune to ghostly flattery, laughed it off and called Jake in.
    That’s what she should have done.
    Instead, she blushed and smiled and toyed with the sheet that had fallen across her lap. There was something inexplicably appealing about Eliot’s compliment—rooted as it was in his own depression and insecurity. She wasn’t usually moved by her ghosts’ attempts to woo her, but then she didn’t usually spend her days lusting after ridiculously masculine men who were not, in fact, gigolos sent to pleasure her senseless. She was horny. She was frustrated. And her self-esteem needed the boost.
    So instead of calling in Jake and getting down to business, Lucy preened and said, “What a silly thing to say, Eliot. You seem like a wonderful man, er, ghost. I’m sure if we had time to get to know one another then I would find you far more interesting than Big Joe Morrissey.”
    Eliot wandered over to stand at the side of her bed, running ghostly fingers along the lampshade in an endearingly timid way. “Really?”
    “Really.” It wasn’t even a lie. The murderer-pimp didn’t really sound like her type.
    The change in Eliot was immediate. The melancholy accountant pulled back his shoulders and shot her an oily smile. “So, what’s your name, baby?” he asked in the same too-slick tone she had heard coating a dozen pick-up lines from countless dead businessmen.
    But instead of rolling her eyes, Lucy smiled at the clueless accountant. “I’m Lucy. I’m a medium. I’m here for you, Eliot.”
    “You don’t care about Big Joe?”
    She knew she was using this sweet, pathetic ghost to feel better about herself, but she couldn’t make herself stop. What would a little harmless flirtation hurt, anyway? She was making Eliot feel better. That was her job. Sort of. And it wasn’t as if she were lying .
    “I don’t care about Big