My name’s Trent. I’m a private detective, hired by the late Linda Stevens. Obviously, I believe in ghosts. I never used to, but Linda is a pretty determined bird with some very convincing tricks. Crikey, I don’t want to start thinking about it. She’ll drive me mad if I dwell on it. Let me just say this – don’t ever let a ghost like Linda near your pants.
She told me about herself, and insisted that I write it down. Why? I asked. I knew I’d remember every detail – it’s my job. Besides, she could always be on hand to remind me of anything that slipped my prodigious memory.
“For posterity,” she said. Well, can’t argue with that. Besides, arguing with a ghost is one of those exercises in futility, like chasing rainbows or trying to ride the wind. At least it is if the ghost’s Linda. I’ve never tried arguing with a ghost before.
My name’s Linda. I’m dead. It sucks, OK? Especially because I’m dead for no good reason. I’m dead because my dumbarse boyfriend smacked me one and then something else smacked me one and it hurt like hell and that’s all I remember, to be honest. Until I woke up without a body. Now I know from books and movies that that’s not the way it’s supposed to happen. Well, in a way it is, right. But the ghost is always anchored by their bod, and they can’t move too far away from it. Which implies that they know WHERE THE HELL IT IS. Whereas, me? I don’t know where my body is, and I’m not limited to any location. And for some reason, this is really important to me. I need to find my body. Maybe I need closure, or some shit. I don’t know. I just need to. I tried to get it out of Mike, but he kept sliding round and round the real issue. I know, ghosts are supposed to be interested only in getting justice so their affairs on earth are all squared away. I couldn’t give a shit about telling people where to find my body so that Mike can get arrested for my murder. I just want to find it, dammit. But Mike’s so fucking paranoid about going back inside… arsehole. So I hired Trent. He’ll find my body for me. I hope. If he doesn’t, I’ll fire his arse and haunt him in between haunting my ex-beloved and hiring someone with a clue.
I think that last bit’s a threat.