Wednesday, the clock chimes Nine.

[alone_lily]

“Would you like to have another biscotti, Miss. Delacroix?” offered Eric Tiller, an indicted thief and her newest client, seated across from her. A well-mannered middle aged with a shade of gray hair was a respectable businessman who owned a small coffee shop in Watertown, Massachusetts. The last person you would suspect as a high end art thief.

“No thank you, Mr. Tiller,” said Lily Delacroix Psy.D, forensic psychologist, who was hired by Tiller’s attorney as a consultant. The law firm needed to come up with a viable defense for Tiller, and an insanity plea was an option. “Please, just call me Lily.”

A book she had published late last year had brought her some attention from the paranormal community. It was a 197-page book account of a murderer she interviewed over the course of a year, back when she worked for the Louisiana Department of Corrections. The convict swore an old Aztec chieftain compelled him to murder. A human sacrifice for Coyolxauhqui, goddess of the moon. Lily concluded his story was true, only so because he truly believed it. There was no lasting psychotic behavior, the man was for all intended purpose and by definition sane. He had a mad story. She left it up to her readers to decide if this was a deed of an evil man or influenced by unknown paranormal forces.

So she was asked to consult on this case. Eric Teller had been an art thief for the last five years, a very successful art thief who was only caught last month inside the Peabody Essex Museum in Salem, Massachusetts. He is out on bond while he waits for trial later in the Spring. Lily was brought in because Teller’s claim Burley made him do it. Burley is a one hundred and seven-nine-year-old ghost according to him. The law firm wanted Lily to assess Teller’s current mental health.

She already had one session with Mr. Teller at her office last week, they both went over his history. He was once treated for mild depression in his 20s. One 30-day subscription of anti-depressant, and no follow up. This only proved his doctor did not think it serious enough to be of concern.

Mr. Tiller first encountered Burley the ghost at a book shop on a Wednesday morning, five and half years ago. Every Wednesday morning at 9 am for the last five and half years, Mr. Tiller had a visitation from Burley which lasted upward to 24-hours and no more.

Here she was with Mr. Tiller, his attorney Mr. O’Reilly, and a law intern waiting in the man’s living room for the clock to strike nine. With a minute till nine, there was an awkward silence among them. The lawyer reading emails on his iPhone. The intern adjusting the camcorder on the tripod to record the interview. Mr. Tiller watched the clock on the mantle. Everything seemed normal.

On the hour, the Westminster Quarters rang from the mantle clock, and then the bells counted off the hours. Lily felt an uneasiness with the final chimes. The lawyer had put away his phone, and the intern watched the small screen of the camcorder as it recorded.

“For the record, it is nine AM, Wednesday, January 27, 2016. We are at Mr. Tiller’s home. Miss. Delacroix will interview Mr. Tiller.” He turned to Lily, “When you are ready.”

First thing she noticed Mr. Tiller eyes follow an object to the side. “Mr. Tiller, is he here?” Straight to the point.

“Right there,” he pointed with his finger, and Lily followed it to the empty air next to the Intern. The Intern jumped a step back from the camcorder.

“You felt something?” asked the Lawyer.

“No Dude, didn’t want to get in the way,” the California native would not normally address his employer by Dude, but under the weird circumstances it was understandable. The air simply felt strange at this moment.

“What is he doing?” asked Psychologist.

“He is looking at the camcorder and asks ‘what the fuck is going on?”

Lily paused a moment to study Mr. Tiller facial expression, it was normal. She turns toward the camcorder in the direction Burley should be. “Hello, Mr. Burley. My name is Lily.” She saw nothing, and turned back to Mr. Tiller.

“He says ‘Hi’ and that you’re a beautiful woman.”

“Thank you, that’s very kind of you,” she said back in the direction of the camcorder. “I would like to return the compliment, but I cannot see you.”

“He’s next to me now, sitting on the stool.” Said Mr. Tiller.

“You know this is quite difficult to speak to someone you cannot see or hear,” she said facing the client now. “Would you agree with that Mr. Tiller?”

“Yes, but it’s not my decision.”

“So you’re saying it’s his, that Mr. Burley can reveal himself if he wishes.”

“I suppose.”

Lily lean forward. “So what do you say Mr. Burley, reveal yourself to us.”

“He says no, and to stop calling him Mister Burley, it’s just Burley.”

“Sorry, I’m not used to conversing with the spirits,” she studied Mr. Tiller eyes briefly. She saw no tales that he was making this all up. “Do you mind if I smoke?” She had noticed the ashtray on the counter behind him. She didn’t ask permission from the Lawyer or his Intern.

“No, go ahead.” He stood up to grab the ashtray.

“Thanks,” she reached into her purse. “It calms me down. I’m not used to this,” she pulled out a pack of cigarettes. It was not really her style, she preferred a cigarillo and cigar ever so often. The cigarettes were for clients. “Do you want one?”

“Yeah, sure,” he reached and took one out of the pack she had offered.

They both took a moment to light a cigarette. She exhaled her first draft. “Is Burley okay that we smoke?”

“He just lit his pipe.”

She laughed. “Good for him, happy he can enjoy a pipe in the afterlife.” She watched Mr. Tiller. “So you two are buddies?”

“Yeah, we get along,” he nodded.

“Burley you feel the same?”

“He agrees,” said Mr. Tiller.

“That’s good,” she nodded. “You don’t hear these kinds of stories. Men and ghosts. Like men and dogs, best friends.” A beat. “Or in your case, partners in crime. Mr. Tiller and the Ghost Robber. An excellent title for a novel.”

“Burley is cracking up,” said Mr. Tiller. “He likes you.”

“I have that kind of effect, I guess,” she smiled, and then put down her cigarette on the ashtray. “Does he think it’s funny you may serve in prison?” She turned to the Lawyer, “What’s that, fifteen to thirty years?”

“Not if I can help it,” replied the Lawyer.

“That’s right,” facing Mr. Tiller now. “Yeah, you might spend the rest of your life in the Looney bin. Yeah, I said just said that, broken some psychology rule.” She emphasized with air quotes. Lily noticed the Lawyer had become uneasy. “O’Reilly wants to fix that so you don’t have to serve any time.

“The thing is you have to help us,” she allowed that to set in Tiller’s mind for a moment. She figured two outcomes. Tiller will confess he was faking it, or he was not lying about Burley. He shown no indication of being delusional so far. She hoped Burley was truly next to Mr. Tiller smoking a pipe, this would be so much more interesting.

“She’s right Burley, I am in serious trouble,” he spoke to the empty stool. “I took the things that you wanted. You got to help me, it’s the reason I invited them here.” He nodded to response. “I understand, it was mutual.”

“What’s that?” she asked.

“There were certain objects he needed,” he then quickly turned toward the stood. “No, I wasn’t going to tell her what they were.”

“Doesn’t matter to me Burley,” she addressed the unseen spirit directly. Lily was still unsure if she was talking to anyone, but just in case. “All I need is proof that you are right here with us.”

“He says he can’t revel himself to you guys,” Mr. Tiller said.

“Bullshit,” said Lily. “He is a ghost and you can see him.”

“He says that’s special.”

“Pfft, Please. You’re not so special, just an ordinary man.”

“Rules, he says.”

“Oh really, ghost rules? It’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah, really.” Mr. Tiller shift his attention between the stool and Lily. “He says…No I can’t say that Burley, that’s not nice.”

“Say it,” said Lily.

“He says you’re rude, and it’s not a woman’s place to ask such questions, and will only now answer questions from the Lawyer.” Relayed Mr. Tiller.

“No!” she pointed at the stool. “Écoutez-moi, monsieur. Vous, fantôme stupide.” She pushed back hoping for a more emotional response.

There was a long pause which was finally broken by Mr. Tiller. “He called you a bitch.”

“Oh good, at least we have an understanding.” She said, and then picked up her cigarette with smoke trailing up. “Burley, help us out here, for the camera, do something with the smoke.”

“Like what?” said Mr. Tiller.

“I don’t know, use your imagination.” Lily stood up with the cigarette and positioned it closer to the camcorder. “You see Mr. Tiller, you are either the best liar I have ever meant, or Burley is a poor example of a friend, but with no proof. You see what I mean? This doesn’t really help your cause.” She stood between the camera and the stool. “Little ghost just make the smoke swirl.”

As they waited, she though how much fun she was having. She was either going to have her first real ghost encounter or the law firm will fire her and her reputation tarnished. Oh that second option would be bad, she actually needed the income from the law firm, she just moved into a nicer apartment with higher rent.

Out of thin air above the stool, a puff of smoke appeared and grew into a huge smoke cloud. Lily’s eyes widen, and then a sudden hard gust of cold air blew the cloud of smoke past them. A sweet smell of pipe smoke lingered in the air.

“Oh shit,” said the Lawyer who got up and climbed backwards on to the couch and then fell over it. “Fuck this man,” the Intern ran for the front door.

Lily had a great big smile on her face with the cigarette in her hand.

“He’s gone for the day. He’ll be back next Wednesday.” Said Mr. Tiller.