The Hysteria: Book 4, The Eddie McCloskey Paranormal Mystery Series (The Unearthed) Read Online Free PDF Page A

there’s a connection between this ghost and her disappearance?” I didn’t. At least not yet. Look for the rational explanation first, and always, and last.
    “I’m not sure. I don’t know what to think.”
    And then he was crying.
    I’d seen clients break down before but it never got any easier. I gave him a moment. He needed more than a moment. I went to her bookshelf and inspected her literature more closely. He blubbered for another minute. I felt bad.
    “Excuse me,” he said.
    I faced him. “You said she studied psychology in school?”
    He nodded. “She was always a great student.”
    “Just curious. What was her senior thesis on?”
    He used a handkerchief to wipe away the tears and blow out the crying snots. “She loved abnormal psychology. Her thesis is a bit esoteric so you’ve probably never heard about it. About fifty years ago there was a laughing epidemic in Africa, the village girls couldn’t stop. They were in hysterics.”
    I knew all about it. But rather than impress him with my wide and deep reading habits, I filed that tidbit away and added it to my picture of Megan.
    His eyes got that faraway look. “She’s a great person. Very driven, very passionate about life and work and family. She could have been anything she wanted and she ended up being exactly what she wanted. She could have coasted through school and sat on her trust fund but instead she signed up for dangerous work. She…”
    He started blubbering again and I was almost there myself.
    “Morgan, I don’t know if I can help you. But I’ll try my damnedest.”

Six
     
    Chester Leonard was driving a new BMW convertible and was in the middle of moving into a new office building. A wall-length aquarium filled one side of the reception area. Movers carried brand new furniture in. The place was already overfurnished but respectable-looking.
    Chester himself wasn’t. He was a big, heavyset man who didn’t carry the extra pounds well and had a tiny head and a weasely face. He was a low-talker of the worst kind. I had to ask him to repeat everything he fucking said.
    “Yeah, I looked for Megan.”
    He didn’t volunteer any more information.
    Like Morgan Turner, Leonard’s online photo was embarrassingly out of date. On his website he looked about thirty-five. In person, closer to forty-five.
    “Look, pal, I’m trying to help Morgan out and I don’t want to waste my time or Morgan’s money retreading already well-trodden ground.”
    “You making a crack about my weight?”
    “Jesus, no. So what’d you do? Who’d you talk to?”
    He said nothing.
    “Come on, one professional to another.”
    He grunted, swiveled in his chair so he was forty-five degrees to me, steepled his sausage-like fingers. I could understand his reluctance. Nobody liked somebody else looking over their shoulder.
    He started talking and I immediately cut him off and told him to speak into the mike.
    He started again. “First, any more East Coast attitude out of you and you can take a hike.”
    “Okay, fine.” I calmed down. Pissing this guy off wouldn’t get me closer to Megan. “Tell me what you know.”
    He grunted. “One professional to another, my enormous ass. You hunt ghosts , apparently. I provide a real service. One professional to another.”
    He was a big repeater, like he’d seen one too many David Mamet movies. “You didn’t provide much of a real service for Morgan, did you?”
    Every once in awhile you come up with a good zinger. Most of the time, it happens after the conversation is already over. But sometimes, it comes to you at the perfect moment.
    Leonard’s eyes bulged and his blubbery mass didn’t shoot so much as rise like a great whale coming out of the ocean. “For a man holding his hand out, you got a lip.”
    “Cut the shit. I’m trying to find a woman. Now you can help me or you can be an asshole.”
    He remained standing. “I spoke to her ex-husband. I spoke to her local friends. I tried IDing her employer but