It had been all I could do to stop myself from laughing. Celadon had avoided the meeting, but had come to see me after. He and Franklyn were twins, after all; Franklyn was able to see him, although he refused to acknowledge him. Celadon was worried that if Franklyn knew that I could see ghosts, he might figure out our plan. I doubted Franklyn had the wits for it. Celadon was clearly the gifted one in that family. But then, I was developing a bias where Celadon was concerned. Right now, he was wandering around my office again; he couldn't pick anything up, but he would occasionally touch something.
Part of the reason I was staring so fixedly at the potion that Raven had made was because every time I watched Celadon's insubstantial fingers graze across the surface of a desk, or a leaf of the wilting pot plant, I imagined what it would be like to have those hands touching me. I was seriously beginning to doubt my own motives; there was far more than a little self interest in the desire to see Celadon corporeal. I jumped at a rap on the frosted glass of the door, and my eyes met Celadon's across the room. We had decided that it would be best if he waited outside for a while, and just wandered in, to avoid any suspicion.
Celadon rolled his eyes dramatically, and then leaned back against the far wall, passing through it. "Come in," I called out, once Celadon had completely vanished. Franklyn pushed open the door, and walked into my office. My heart jumped a bit, just because of how much he looked like Celadon. I suddenly realized that the potion was in plain view on my desk, and I cursed inwardly. Gesturing to a chair with one hand, I juggled the potion into my desk draw with the other. Franklyn sat down opposite me, crossing his ankles and resting his hands in his lap. "So, detective," he said, "Do you think that we can get justice for my brother's murder?"
"I'm certain of it," I replied. "Your father's written confession is enough for that; all we need to do is to verify the handwriting." I placed two tumblers on the desk, and fumbled in the desk draw, managing to tip most of the potion into the whiskey bottle. I poured two measures of the tainted whiskey, hoping that it would be enough, and pushed one towards Franklyn. He took it, but made no move to drink. I really hoped that I wouldn't need to hold him down and force feed him the stuff; he was taller than me, and grappling with Celadon's body...I almost took a swig of the whiskey at that thought.
Franklyn toyed with the tumbler in his hands, frowning slightly. Celadon chose this moment to reappear in the room. He gave me a questioning look, and I shook my head slightly. "I'm wondering, detective," Franklyn said slowly, "why you asked me here. If you have all the evidence you need, surely another interview is pointless." Panic gripped me for a moment, and then with sudden inspiration, I raised my glass. "I just wanted to congratulate you," I said, tipping the glass back, careful not to swallow any of the stuff. Holding whiskey under your tongue is not a particularly pleasant experience, especially when it's cheap whiskey, and I hoped that Franklyn would take the bait quickly. Fate was on my side; after a moment's pause, Franklyn downed his whiskey. As soon as I was sure it was gone, I made a show of choking, ducking down under the desk so I could spit out the whiskey.
I poured us both another measure, hoping that what Franklyn had drunk had been enough. There hadn't been much whiskey in the bottle to begin with, so it wasn't like Raven's potion was too diluted. And there was no way my clumsy charade would work a second time. As it was, Franklyn was watching me with narrowed eyes, as if he were suspicious of something. "You realize I like girls," He said. "Celadon's the one who-" He broke off, no doubt realizing that outing his brother after accusing him of having an affair with their stepmother would raise a few questions. "Nothing like that," I said. "I just wanted to congratulate you." Franklyn snorted, as if he didn't believe me, but he tipped his glass back and downed another measure of whiskey. This time, though, when he went to put the tumbler back onto the desk, it slipped through his fingers and landed on the carpet with a dull chunk. Franklyn frowned down at it.
The room went cold, and I turned to see Celadon frowning in concentration. He charged at Franklyn, the force of his spirit entering his brother's body knocking them to the floor, and tipping the chair over. I stood up and rushed around the desk to get a better look, morbidly fascinated in the same way as seeing a car wreck. A spirit tumbled out of the body, and slumped on the floor. Not Celadon; the hair was shorter, and he was a bit see-through, even to me. Plus instead of being sat on the floor, he was part way through it. Franklyn raised his ghostly head, and looked around, completely confused. Then he vanished. I didn't have time to worry about him. I turned to Celadon, who was picking himself up off the floor.
"Ugh, I feel so heavy" He said. I reached out my hand to help him up, maybe not the best idea in the world; my heart started to race at the feeling of his warm flesh. Celadon grinned at me, and then stretched out his arms, tipping his head back. He ran his fingers through his hair and grimaced. "Shorter than I like, but it'll do," He said, before turning to me with the smile that made my legs go wobbly.
or He reached out a hand and grazed my cheek with his fingers. The tough was light, but far more substantial than when he had been a ghost. "I've missed touching," Celadon murmured, the smile fading and his expression suddenly turning serious. The intense look that suddenly appeared in his green eyes was far too much for me to take. I pounced, wrapping my arms around him and kissing him. His mouth tasted of whiskey, and he held me tightly, kissing me back, fingers digging into my back. Too soon, Celadon pulled away, his breathing ragged. "As much as I would love to continue this, I don't know what my brother has been doing with this body. I would like to have a wash first, before..."
"But there will be an after?" I asked. Celadon kissed me again. "Definitely," he said softly. "Let's see if the keys to my apartment still work, then." My apartment was only five minutes away, but it took us longer to get there because Celadon insisted on touching everything in sight; I found myself getting jealous of walls, lampposts, trees. I hoped that the landlady hadn't changed the locks; I was likely to explode if we had to go somewhere else. I was fortunate; my keys still worked.
I showed Celadon the bathroom, and took a moment to look around my old home. I had not been back here in over a week, and it showed. It was a very basic apartment; a main room with a kitchen annexed onto it, a bathroom and one bed room. The place didn't feel lived in, and a film of dust settled over everything. I opened a few windows in an effort to air the place out. Apart from the dust, the place was tidy.
Ed had always been a neat freak, and he had been t he last one here. It made sense that he would tidy before he went. Strangely, these thoughts didn't hurt the way they would have only a few short days ago. My head had been so full of Celadon, that I hadn't even thought about Ed. I couldn't bring myself to feel guilty about it, though. I pushed open the bedroom door; it was as neat in here as the main room, if a bit stuffy. I found my eyes drawn to the bed, and my mind turned to Celadon. I could hear the faint rush of water from the shower. I closed my eyes; I could barely believe that this was happening. The last few days had been a blur of unprecedented incidents, and my head was still racing.
I felt arms wrap around me, the warmth of another body pressed against my back, and my eyes snapped open. I hadn't been aware that the shower had stopped. My chest ached at Celadon's closeness; his damp hair brushed against my cheek and my breath caught in my throat. "Is everything as you left it?" I asked, somehow managing to keep my voice light and level. Celadon chuckled. "Pretty much." He said. His arms tightened around me, pulling me closer to him. I could feel the pound of his heart through my back, his breath hot on my neck.
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