Floyd’s terrible sign somehow makes an amazing addition to the Ghost Office. I thought it was so creepy, before. Now it reminds me of our visit to the bookstore, our chaotic meeting with Floyd. I can’t look at it without smiling, and Aiden is the same way. We grin at each other, both laugh a little when I hold it up to show Aiden where it's going to go.

I use some display tack from the flower shop to stick the sign up, then step back to take a look. It’s right next to a charred, coal-black section of wall. There are a few big patches like this on the interior of the Ghost Office, leftover from the explosion and ensuing fire that Aiden and I caused over the summer.

That was the first time Aiden tried to use his magic without anything to help him channel it. We almost destroyed the building. And now here he is, standing behind me, magic fireflies rolling effortlessly up and out of his palms.

He’s come such a long way. I look at him over my shoulder, a smile rising on my face.

“Hey, you know what I just realized?” I lean my weight into the sign, making sure that the tack sticks to the wall. “We haven’t started a fire in like, a really long time.”

“Oh, that’s true,” Aiden says brightly. “Good for us.”

We fist-bump over it, and Will watches with one blonde eyebrow arched.

“You two celebrate unusual things,” he informs us. “I’ve not started a fire in over two hundred years. Should I celebrate, too?”

“Sure, man.” Aiden holds out his fist to Will. “Why not?”

Will clearly didn’t expect him to do that, but he grins widely, pleased at the offer. I’m not sure that he’s ever partaken in a fist-bump before.

In his enthusiasm, he miscalculates. He punches his fist right through Aiden’s knuckles, and about halfway up his forearm.

His cheeks immediately pick up a ghostly scarlet glow. “Oh - I’m so sorry, Aiden!”

“You’re all good, man,” Aiden laughs. “No worries. It’s your first try.”

“Should we just - get started, then?” Will asks, his cheeks still colored up.

I open a box of chalk, then hand Aiden a piece. “Yep, let’s do it.”

Aiden takes the chalk from me and approaches the burnt-up section of the wall.

“Alright, so here’s what we’ve got,” he announces, as Kasey comes over to join us.

He writes four things on the blackened wall: John Botswick, Other spy?, Calla, and Calla’s Person.

Kasey watches him, her dark eyes shining with excitement. We’ve already told the ghosts everything that we learned from our meeting with Calla, and like us, Kasey believes we’ve got some solid information to work with.

“So,” she begins. “Let’s link things up. First of all, there’s clearly some kind of connection between Calla and this person she doesn’t want us to get in trouble. A person who was involved in the Botswick murder, presumably.”

Aiden draws a chalk line between Calla and Calla’s Person. "There's the obvious one out of the way."

“But what is their connection to Calla?” I ask. “It can’t be romantic. If this person is old enough to have been involved in what happened to John Botswick, they’re too old to be with Calla.”

“Right.” Kasey nods at me. “But it must be someone she’s close to, or I doubt that she would threaten to rain down hell on you and Aiden if you get whoever it is in trouble. So I’d say we’re looking at a close friend, or a family member.”

Aiden writes, on the line he just drew: Friend? Family?

He’s still in his work clothes, but his sleeves are pushed up, forearms bare. The glimmer of the fireflies pours down on the soft bronze of his skin, gives his blue eyes an incandescent shimmer. I tip forward to lean against him as he steps back from the wall.

I smush my cheek into his arm, and he bends to pop a kiss onto the top of my head.

“What about John Botswick?” Will says, his gaze on the burned-up wall. “Calla makes it sound as if he would have done something very bad, had his life not been cut short.”

I resist the urge to make a sound of protest as Aiden slips out of my reach to chalk something else onto the wall.

Beneath John Botswick, Aiden adds: What would he have done?

“Could that not be the motive behind the murder?” Will continues, running a thoughtful hand over his jaw. “Preventing Botswick from doing whatever it was that he intended to do?”

Kasey points at him. “We’re on the same page, Will.”

Aiden circles the words beneath Botswick’s name, then writes next to them: Motive?

“I’d guess that Calla is local, by the way,” he says, when he’s done. “She has our same kind of Ketterbridge accent, and I doubt that people from Port Sitka sound all that different than we do. I’m willing to bet she’s from there, or somewhere else nearby.”

“What?” I turn to Aiden, caught by surprise. “Ketterbridge accent? We don’t have that.”

“Yes we do, Jamie,” Aiden says. “Everyone has their own hometown sound. Believe me, I would know. I’ve been everywhere, remember?” He pauses, then adds, in a shy sort of way - “You don’t even know how it fucking felt to step off the plane after eight years away, and hear it again when I talked to you. It was - a lot for me to handle.”

I stare at Aiden, absorbing that.

Honestly, it never would have occurred to me, not with the tiny amount of traveling I’ve done in my life. This is a part of me that I’ve never thought about before, but Aiden has.

I smile at him, warm everywhere. It feels good to know that I’m not the only one who loves very specific things about the voice of my Companion Plant.

“Aiden’s right,” Kasey says, bringing me back to the present. “Calla's probably from Port Sitka. It makes sense, given what we know. At the very least, she has a connection to it.”

Kasey pauses, thinking hard, then pins on: “But I don’t think you guys should go looking for Calla, even if we know roughly where to find her. From what I’m hearing, she made it pretty clear that she’s not interested in helping us.”

“Yeah,” I sigh, rubbing my elbow. “Despite our best efforts to convince her. Apparently she’s a team of one.”

“She did say that she’ll stop interfering with our investigation, though,” Aiden points out. “Which means that Jamie and I can go to Port Sitka this weekend. Check out the list of locations that Floyd gave us, safe in the knowledge that we won’t incur the wrath of Calla. Which sounds second only to the wrath of Kasey.”

“It does,” Kasey says, with obvious admiration. She sighs, her shoulders drooping. “Too bad Calla didn’t want to join the team, honestly. We could use her skills. And her knowledge, because she clearly knows a lot more about this case than we do.”

“Well, it’s okay.” I give Kasey an encouraging smile. “We can solve this thing, with or without Calla’s help.”

“Of course we can!” Will says.

Aiden points at the sign on the wall. “We’ve got the power of Floyd Little on our side, don’t forget.”

“That’s true,” Kasey laughs, perking up. “How’d the new sign turn out, by the way?”

“Oh, I meant to follow up with Ripples!” I slip my phone out of my pocket and quickly put in my passcode. “I’ll text him. Maybe he’s got some progress pictures for us.”

“Sweet. I’m excited to see." Kasey turns back to what we’ve written out on the wall. “Okay, team. Is there anything else we can draw from what we already know?”

“Maybe,” Aiden answers. “I have a thought.”

He steps up to our makeshift chalkboard again, then draws a dotted line between Calla’s Person and Other Spy. He puts a question mark next to that line.

“The same thought has occurred to me, Aiden,” Kasey murmurs, her expression suddenly very serious. “Calla said that her person would get in trouble if the facts of the Botswick case come to light, so... it’s possible that Calla’s person wasn’t just involved. It’s possible that they’re the killer.”

There’s a silence as we all think about that.

“Anyways.” Kasey gives herself a little shake, like she’s throwing that possibility aside. “No way to know for sure, just yet. We can’t get much farther until you guys scope out those locations Floyd gave you. But now we know what questions we need to answer. And there are a lot of them. Jesus.”

“One at a time,” Will says softly, folding an arm around her shoulders.

Kasey leans into him, and smiles up at him.

We all stand there processing for a minute, then start to get moving.

“What are you ghosts up to tonight?” Aiden asks, reaching for his backpack.

“I’m going to Angie’s house,” Kasey says, with a grin that suggests she’s very much looking forward to it. “I went to the flower shop earlier, looking for Jamie. Overheard Destinee talking to Ang. They’re doing a movie-popcorn-wine night. I feel like I shouldn’t have to miss out just because I’m a ghost, so I’ll be joining them.”

“Haunted girls’ night,” Aiden chuckles, shouldering his backpack. “Sounds like fun.”

I grab my bag, too. “Have a good time, Kase-face!”

She smiles at us, then leans up to brush a kiss onto Will’s cheek before she disappears. Will’s eyes linger on the spot where she vanished, then lift to us.

“Well,” he says. “Have a good night, gentlemen.”

“Oh - Will, wait!” I say quickly, because he’s already started to grow more transparent. “If Kasey is doing a girls’ night, you should come chill with me and Aiden!”

Will blinks in surprise. His mouth quirks up into a small smile.

“If I - would not be intruding-”

“Nah, of course not, dude,” Aiden says warmly. “We’ve been looking for a chance to get to know you better, anyways.”

Will hesitates, then smiles again. “Alright.”

I exchange a swift grin with Aiden, who turns back to Will and nods at the door.

“Cool, man. Let’s go.”

I fall into step behind Will and Aiden, then slow down when I feel my phone buzzing in my pocket. Ripley texted me back, but he didn’t send any progress pictures.

Ripley 🎶 6:55 PM: It’s already done.

Me 6:55 PM: Really? Wow, thanks dude, that was so fast! When can I come pick it up?

Ripley 🎶 6:56 PM: No need for that, I already took care of everything.😊 Hope Floyd likes it!

I stare down at the text, confused. But Aiden starts lowering the rolltop door of the Ghost Office, so I stuff my phone into my pocket and hurry out after him. I’ll respond to Ripley later, figure out what he means.

My focus is on Will right now, anyways. It sounds like he used to have a lot of buddies on the beat crew, but this will be his first time getting to hang out with some guy friends since he died.

And the last video game he remembers was for the Commodore, so we have a lot to bring him up to speed on.

~~~~

It feels different, to be in my living room, hanging out with a ghost that isn’t Kasey. But I’m having a good time, honestly, and I can tell that Aiden is, too.

My couch isn’t nearly big enough to fit two men built like Aiden and Will at the same time, so I offered Will the armchair. He opted for the floor right in front of us, instead.

He sits leaning back on his hands, his legs stretched out. He’s shrugged off his suspenders - they’re hanging from where they’re attached to his pants - and pushed up his sleeves. He seems more comfortable around us than he has been before, and he’s talking more than he normally does.

What I’m learning about Will is that when he gets past his shyness, he’s funny and warm, quick to laugh. Eager for information, for answers that he was unable to obtain when he was an incorporeal ghost. I find myself explaining all kinds of different things, from Nintendogs to NASA.

“I’m sorry to ask so many questions,” Will says after a while, wincing. “I know I’m doing it. I’ve just held onto them for so long. It feels good to finally have answers. I had only guesses, before.”

“You’re fine, dude,” I tell him, cozied up against Aiden’s side. “Ask us whatever.”

“Yeah, this is fun, actually,” Aiden says, smiling at Will. “What else have you been wondering about?”

Will hesitates, pushing his blonde hair out of his face.

“Sometimes I do not know,” he says, “If I’m failing to understand something Kasey says because it’s too historical, or because it’s too modern.”

“Like what?” Aiden asks, taking a bite of pizza.

“Like - she said…” Will closes his eyes, trying to remember. “Zeus would have loved Tinder.”

I choke on my beer, then laugh, drying my mouth on my sleeve. “Oh, um-”

“Of course she said that,” Aiden chuckles.

“Is Tinder a Greek god I don’t know of?” Will tips his head to the side. “I don’t want to ask Kasey, lest she think my knowledge of the Classics to be poor.”

“Nope, that’s a modern thing, Will,” Aiden says, now barely suppressing his laughter. “It’s an app.”

“An app?” Will asks curiously.

“Okay, you can tackle that one, Aiden,” I say, getting to my feet. “I just got beer all over my shirt, so I need to get a new one.”

I head into my bedroom. It’s quiet and dark in here, compared to all the laughter and light in my living room. Snow is falling gently beyond the windows, a soft breeze sighing through the trees outside. I swap my shirt and my flannel and go to rejoin the others, then pause in the doorway. My phone is charging on my night table, and I’ve just realized that it’s lit up.

I cross to it and discover that I have two missed calls from Floyd, and that he’s calling me again. Right now.

“Jamie!” he gasps, the instant I answer.

“Floyd, are you okay?” I ask, alarmed. “Why did you call me so many-?”

“I'm sorry,” he interrupts, “I’m just so excited, I - I needed to tell someone about this, and you left me your number, and I didn’t know who else to call!”

Now that he says it, I can hear it in his voice. He sounds like he’s bouncing off the walls with enthusiasm.

“Tell someone about what?” I ask.

“The sign!” Floyd lets out a thrilled, cackling laugh. “Someone took it upon themselves to make a sign for my store! I didn’t even know, but then I got three customers today, and they said it was because they saw the sign! I had to go out and find it! I’ve just tracked it down, and it’s absolutely dynamite!”

“Find it?” I’m confused, but I’m smiling, because Floyd’s energy is contagious. “What do you mean?”

“Did you and Aiden have something to do with it?”

“We - asked a friend to - can you send me a picture, Floyd? I don’t even know what it looks like.”

“Yes, a picture!” I hear the scuffling of Floyd’s feet as he rushes around. “I should take one, anyways - stand by!”

The call disconnects. I stand there and wait for the picture to come through, smiling to myself. Whatever Ripley did, Floyd is clearly happy, and that’s what matters. Still, I’m curious about what Ripley created. How has it already drawn three new customers to the shop?

It takes Floyd a good long minute to send me the picture, and when I open it, I understand why. The old sign was wedged into the side of the tiny, hidden road that leads to Body Bag Books, but Ripley’s sign is up right next to the nearby highway. I think Floyd had to drive to get to it, because -

It’s a fucking billboard.

I recognize it, actually. Aiden and I drove past it on our way to meet Floyd. It had an ancient, faded advertisement for some brand of beer that I’m pretty sure doesn’t even exist anymore. The half-shredded design was corroded, peeling and crumbling. It looked like it hadn’t been updated for decades.

But it’s definitely been updated now.