Part 2

“Alright.” I agreed, “Will a letter work for your Mother?”
“Yes, it should read…”
“We will work on it back at my apartment.” I interrupted continuing to Hannaford. “How did you even know to approach me? That I could help you?”
“I went to school with you. I was a year ahead, a senior, when the rumors started.” He said following me.
I groaned. I had been sixteen and in love. Influenced by the Ghost Whisperer I told my boyfriend, of three dates and one school dance, that I could hear and communicate with the dead. By Monday, he had told my secret to the entire school and that his taking me to the dance had been a pity date.
I walked quicker through the parking lot. My jaw started to hurt. “What side of the river are you on now?” I asked to stretch it.
“Troy. I was on my way back to see my Mother. She still lives in Waterford. You are not seriously going grocery shopping are you?” He demanded.
“The letter will wait until after. I will mail it with a post date of when you died.” I said as I pulled out a smaller, blue cart. I slung the bookbag into the cart as I pushed it through the doors.
“You still need to call the police and tell them where my body is.” He complained from behind me.
“I am about to do that.” I said walking straight to the payphone. It was opposite the door on the wall of the mens room. “I need your name, her name, and where your body is.”
“I am Andre Martin. My murderer is Sheena O’Rilley. My body is currently in the basement of her dealers’ house at 32 124th St. by a hole in the south wall.”
I dialed 911. The operator answered as they do. “I am calling on behalf of Andre Martin. Sheena O’Rilley killed him. His body is currently in the basement by a hole in the south wall at 32 124th St. in North Troy.” I said quickly then hung up.
“You know they can track those calls.” He said as I walked between the last register and the customer service counter. I ignored him. No good speaking to him in public and getting odd looks. I went and got the block of cheese first. I went down the back of the store, going into the cleaning aisle for the crock-pot bags. I picked up a small roast from the meat section. I went down the cookie and cracker aisle, grabbing a box of club crackers along the way. I went to the last aisle and picked up hummus and then carrots. Frozen carrots have no crunch and any extra carrots taste good in hummus too. I picked up four small fresh yellow potatoes. I walked back to the freezer section along the back of the store. I went down the alcohol aisle to the vegetables at the end by the register. I got a big bag of frozen peas and saw a bag of frozen chopped onions. I hate chopping onions, my eyes always cry no matter what trick I try. I put both in the cart, turned, and headed to the 14 items or less line as the police officer arrived. I grabbed a bottle of sweet tea from the cooler. The officer went to customer service, cutting in line in front of an old man. The employee used the phone to call someone. I placed my items on the conveyer belt to the cashier. When I turned back to see what was going on the manager was speaking to the officer while the customer service woman was helping the old man.
The haughty business-suit wearing male in front of me in line paid for his three items and took his plastic bag. “I will be putting in in my bookbag.” I told the cashier.
“Do you at least want this meat bagged?” He asked.
“Good idea.” I said pulling out the two library books. I put the meat on the bottom then the frozen vegis. Then in went the cheese, potatoes, carrots, and hummus. The boxes went on top of them and the books on top of it all.
He had left the tea next to the register but on my right side of it. I smiled at him pulling the arc notebook out of the front pouch of the bookbag. “How much total?” He told me and I paid him the money from my arc. The arc went back in the bookbag. I took my receipt and my tea. I glanced at where the officer and manager had been but they were out of sight. Most likely, in the office. I left the store and looked around for witnesses.
Nobody was in sight. “Andre you still with me?” I asked softly.
“Of course. I still need you to write the letter to my Mother.”
“I was just making sure. Not used to spirits being so silent.” I said walking around the edge of the parking lot along the river this time.
“I figured you wouldn’t speak to me with all those people around.” Andre said solemnly.
“You are correct. Now we can go back to my apartment. I will start the crock-pot and then we can type up your letter.”
“She will not accept a typed letter. I have no computer.” Andre said matter-of-factly.
I sighed. Rarely could I do this the easy way. “I know how we can work around that too. We just need to get back to my apartment first. Think about what you want to say in the letter while we go.”