"I smiled and turned around to face Emelda. Emelda was a grave ghost. She liked floating among the trees in her graveyard and got energy from everyday...life—the little animals, visitors, and the weather. She was old, like me, and I enjoyed her company. Emelda was some sort of weird ethnic mix that I couldn't figure out with beautiful brown hair. I was pasty white with red hair. She had a tight body with nice curves. I was like a stick with puffy nipples. Fate is cruel, I thought, the grave ghost. You’ll be the expert tracker.”“And track what? There isn’t anything to track. You have a better chance of finding Casper the ghost, as finding bigfoot.”“I know that. It’s like you said. I bring them up here. We run them around for a couple of days or a week. They wear themselves out playing in the woods. And we go laughing all the way to the bank.”Suzy spoke up, “How much? And there had better be a comma in that number.”“Well, I was thinking a grand, plus I handle all the grub.”“Let’s try 5,” I. More

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