Night Beats: Ghost in the Vending Machine

Chapter 18: S06E08: Oh Dear, Oh Dear

Trix sat in the back of the sedan, her mind processing everything they'd found out in the past few days. Jordan and Jane had combed through every inch of Richard's office and were still no closer to finding her killer or the man at the center of the board. It was beginning to feel like the mystery of her death might never be solved, despite how close her killer was.

The driver's side door opened, and Jordan stuck his head in. "Hey, sorry it took so long." He gave her a smile that had begun to melt the ice left by their rocky introduction.

"Where's Jane?" Trix scooted towards the passenger side so he wouldn't have to crane his neck to talk.

"Waiting for them to remake her sandwich without onions. Can't trick that nose of hers by trying to take them off. Bad thing is, I'm not allowed to have onions either." He opened up the container to a turkey sandwich with a side of fries. "Want some—" he cut himself off. "Sorry." The apologetic way his nose wrinkled at the bridge was enough to further thaw the spot where her heart once was.

"It's fine. Uh—thanks for agreeing to eat in the car. I'm not really comfortable going inside yet, and I don't like being left in the coin holder."

"I don't blame you. It took Brent months before he was comfortable showing himself around strangers. Ghosts don't usually wander around in broad daylight, so it tends to cause a spectacle. It can take a while to get used to being the center of attention." He bit a cluster of fries in half after dipping them in far too much ketchup.

"Yeah. I guess I'm not ready to see how people look at me. It's weird being reminded that I'm—dead." Trix gazed at the perforated leather seats through her translucent fingers. "Sorry."

"Don't sweat it." The keys jangled as he fed them into the ignition and turned them one notch. Trix could hear the disc player pick up a CD, and The Wallflowers began to play quietly in the background. "It's a lot to deal with, but I think you're handling it really well. I'm just sorry you get left in the cup holder so often."

What used to be her stomach tensed, and Trix quickly looked across the street, hoping Jane would show up. "Well, technically, I'm not a cop, so I can't go everywhere with you."

"Speaking of, have you thought about where you want to go when this is over?"

"Go?"

"Or stay, I guess. Brent likes to be left in the morgue most nights, but sometimes, on weekends, he'll ask to camp out with one of us."

"Oh—I don't know. I've been so focused on finding out what happened to me that I haven't put much thought into it. I've gotten kinda used to you carrying me around—both of you, I mean." The addendum was more transparent than her, but Jordan didn't seem to notice as he bit into his sandwich.

"Well, I tend to lose change every time I sit down, so unless you wanna haunt my couch for eternity, I'd suggest making Jane your guardian." He spoke behind a hand, and when he moved it, there was mayonnaise on his chin. Trix considered leaving it there, but she lifted a napkin from the center console.

"Hey, you're getting good at that." His complement caused the napkin to fall through her fingers and into his waiting hand. "You know, now that you've got so much extra time, you could always train at the academy. I don't think we have any ghost detectives."

"I'm not sure how that would work considering I can't drive."

"That's what a good partner's for."

"And how am I supposed to apprehend a suspect?" Trix took a lean against the opposite door.

"Duh, possession. You can walk them right to me, and I can slap some cuffs on 'em."