Chapter 3
Jeff had almost finished unloading the last kettle for the night before he remembered Paul's advice for contacting the ghost. He was still skeptical but decided to try. It was oppressively hot and humid at the back of the kettle, still reading over a hundred and sixty degrees Fahrenheit on the temperature gauge. He usually dashed in, disconnected vacuum lines, then hurried back out with a few tires. This time he paused to listen.
Over everything was the muffled sound of the compressor chugging away as usual in its room at the back of the shop. There was a thud as Billy removed a retreaded tire from the builder and dropped it to the floor. A truck drove by outside. Jeff held his breath. There was a slight ringing in his ears and he became aware of a faint hiss, like the white noise between FM radio stations.
"Jeff."
His head whipped around, but of course he was alone.
The voice came again, barely audible, a fluctuation in the hiss right in his ear. "I know you heard me. I saw you move."
"Where, uh, who are you?"
"I'm right here. My name is Ted." Jeff looked down at the name tag on his borrowed coveralls. "That's right," the disembodied voice said, like a whisper in his mind, "you're wearing my coveralls."
"I've only been here a couple of weeks. They haven't made any name tags for me."
"That's quite all right, I don't need them anymore. Being in a bodiless state does have its advantages."
"Wow. I've never met a real ghost before."
"Most people haven't. I'm sorry I can't shake hands but being incorporeal has disadvantages as well."
"I bet it does. So what's it like being a ghost?"
"Not as much fun as you might think. I can control the electrical, air, water, and steam systems in here but I can't go far from the shop. I can watch and listen and I like to play pranks to amuse myself, like Billy mentioned, but it gets lonely."
Jeff wiped sweat from his forehead with the edge of his finger and flicked away the drops. Listening to Ted was like trying to hear a tv show with the sound turned down too low, but he was too fascinated to leave. "How did you become a ghost?"
"I was murdered."
Jeff had been expecting that. His grandmother said murdering a man was the surest way to make him a ghost. "What happened?"
"There was an investigation which determined that my death was an accident, but it was murder. I was knocked out and stuck inside a kettle. I woke up when the kettle was opened, got up and said, ‘It's about time you opened this damned door. I could have died in there.' The guy just turned away with his hand to his mouth. I looked down and if I'd still had a body I would have thrown up myself. Did you ever see an overcooked turkey, with the meat ready to fall off the bones? That's what my body was like."
"Gross." Jeff wiped away some more sweat. "Do you know who did it?"
"That's why I wanted to talk to you, to warn you about Billy."
"The Old Timer?"
"That's right. He killed me."
"He is kind of ugly but he seems to be a nice guy."
"Yes, he certainly seems to be, most of the time. But he killed me and now he's planning to kill you."
"How do you know that?"
"I know him and I spend a lot of time watching him."
"Why would he want to kill me?"
"He's a little bit twisted. His six-year-old granddaughter was raped and killed by a seventeen-year-old junkie on a bad trip. Sometimes he gets strange around any kid that reminds him of that junkie."
"Is that what happened to you?"
"Something like that. So be careful and watch out for the Old Timer."
"I will, but..." Jeff sensed that he was alone and stopped. He was still full of questions but the intense heat and humidity were getting to him so it was just as well that Ted was gone. He pulled out the last two tires and finished up for the night. Jeff didn't see Billy until they punched out and said good-night. He seemed as friendly as ever.