Souly Yours

Souly Yours

  Ghostly Love, Book 1

  by Haden Hudson

  Copyright © 2011 by Haden Hudson

  All rights reserved

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  CHAPTER 1

  Detective Christie Thidoux with the NOPD walked into a small apartment located above Pirates Alley. The tiny space was already filled to capacity with investigators and officers taking photographs, notes and samples from the scene.

  This was not the first time she’d been called to the home of an elderly person who’d passed, most of the time it was simply a matter of illness and natural causes. Still, it was sad. Christie looked around the living room and was surprised at the lack of photos and clutter that she usually saw in the home of the elderly. Usually she saw pictures of spouses, children, and grandchildren. Instead, the furnishings were simple, with only a few pieces of art strewn about.

  “Christie!” Officer Jenkins called from a room located at the back of the apartment. Christie pushed and hopped her way to the back, past a small bathroom, and towards the bedroom.

  She walked in and was greeted by Jenkins, who then proceeded to fill her in on what they’d found so far. Christie looked down at the face of the woman who lay on the bed as he spoke.

  “The housekeeper found her this morning. Said she comes in once a week. The woman’s name is Selena Dean and she’s eighty five years old. Never married, no children or siblings.”

  “She was alone?” Christie asked.

  “It would seem so.”

  “She looks so peaceful, doesn’t she?”

  “Yeah, like she fell asleep and never woke up,” Jenkins replied.

  How sad, Christie thought, that this sweet little old lady had no one. What if she didn’t have a housekeeper? Would she have laid there until she began to decompose and someone complained about the odor?

  It really bothered her that someone could have died alone, with no one by her side to hold her hand.

  “Detective Thidoux, this is Stephen Weiss. I understand you called regarding Selena Dean. How can I help you?”

  “Hello, yes, thank you for calling me back so quickly, Mr. Weiss. This is actually more of a personal request than anything to do with my work. You see, I was the detective in charge of her case. But as you know, it has now been closed.”

  “Yes, I know,” he responded. Mr. Weiss had been Selena’s attorney and the only person who actually knew her.

  It turned out that she had died of natural causes and of course the case had been closed. Christie had called Mr. Weiss because she just couldn’t get the lonely, little old lady out of her thoughts. It really bothered her that there would be only one person at her funeral, and that person was a lawyer to top it off.

  “I would like to attend her funeral and pay my respects with my husband, if that is at all possible.”

  “Oh?”

  “Something about her really got to me. I thought about my own mother, and of how I would hate for her to be alone.”

  “I am afraid there will not be a funeral held for her. In truth, she didn’t have anyone who would go,” he said.

  She sighed, really feeling sad for her. “Well, if you would give me the location where she’ll be buried, I would love to take her some flowers.”

  There was silence on the other line, and then finally after a few moments he spoke, “Detective, if you are really interested in her I can do better than give you the location where she will be buried.”

  “I can’t believe he gave you that,” her husband said. They were in bed late at night, sitting next to each other admiring the brown leather bound diary of Selena Dean.

  “Apparently she’d left it to whoever wanted to read about her life. He said he already knew her story, and he knew that she would be happy to share it with me.”

  “It’s sad that this is the only way that she could share it with anyone,” Jason said.

  “I know. I really feel like someone dropped the ball when it came to her.”

  “Either that or she was a really grouchy old lady.”

  Christy smacked his arm playfully and rolled her eyes. “I don’t think so. Something about her face told me she was sweet, caring. I want to get to know her, even if it’s only through her diary. That way, we can say that she had more than just a lawyer as her friend.”

  “Okay, well, start reading.”

  She opened it to the first page. Some of the writing was a bit faded, but she could still read most of it. She cleared her throat and began.