Cope sighed. He was exhausted from his long day, and the last thing he wanted to do was banter words around with this ghost. “Do you know why I’m here?”
“Fun, fun, fun, in the sun, sun, sun! Isn’t that why we all go to the beach?” Cyrus asked.
“Yeah, but I have a feeling our definitions of fun differ slightly.”
“You got that right,” Cyrus agreed. “I was here to spend as much money as possible on fulfilling every single one of my needs. Fucking pussy, being fucked by dicks, licking and sucking and—”
“I get it.” Cope held up a hand. He’d been able to see a few highlights of the Cyrus Longfellow fuckfest, and that was enough to last him a lifetime. “We came here originally for some fun in the sun, but there are other forces at work.”
“What other forces? You mean like werewolves or vampires? Sexy witches with juicy tits and a juicier—”
“No!” Cope interrupted before Cyrus could finish his thought. “My husband got an email inviting us to come spend the weekend at a discounted rate.”
“Oh, so your gorgeous man’s got a big dick and no brains. Got it. Story of my life, man. Maybe I would have settled down if I’d found someone who’d had both.” Cyrus barked a laugh. “Oh, who the fuck am I kidding. I never would have settled down. I had the best of both worlds; why the fuck would I have chained myself to only one meal for the rest of my life when I could have an entire buffet?”
As much as Cope hated to admit it, Cyrus and Jude would have been the best of friends had they known each other when the ghost still had a pulse. “Anyway. It turns out the sale email Jude got was from a man I think you know.”
“I knew a lot of men. Lots of satisfied customers, if you catch my drift.” Cyrus laughed. “Who’s the piece of meat who’s mourning my loss all these years later?”
Cope did indeed catch his drift, unlike the satisfied customers, who more than likely caught something else that could only be cured with antibiotics. “Chet Hines.”
“That little prick from the news?” Cyrus sounded shocked. “He was clingy but knew how to suck a dick.”
“Good to know,” Cope said, sarcasm dripping from every word. “He covered your case at the time you were murdered and has done several follow-up pieces over the years.”
“He’s been here too,” Cyrus said, sounding bored.
“What, to stay at the motel or to try and contact you?” Cope asked. He was looking forward to speaking with Hines as soon as he had more information.
“Yes, to both. He’s got a hair across his ass about solving my murder. Over the years, he’s brought three or four psychics who were complete frauds. I spoke to them like I’m speaking to you, and they didn’t hear a word I was saying. I tried to write on the bathroom mirror when Chet was in the shower, but he thought that was members of the hotel staff playing a joke on him since they knew who he was. No offense, but Minkie and Suzi are too busy making up rooms and washing bed linens to pull that sort of shit. They take their work seriously. I always tipped them well. Make sure you do too.”
“I’ll make my husband do that.” Cope winked at his husband, who sat on the edge of the bed with a clueless look on his face.
“There have also been countless ghost-hunting groups who’ve stayed in this room. Their equipment wasn’t worth a damn. I did everything I could to communicate, but no one even knew I was here. Pretty disappointing if you ask me.”
“Do you think Hines set me and my friends up, hoping that you’d reveal yourself to me, and then he could get the story from me?” Cope shook his head. The theory sounded crazy, he knew that, but why else would a news reporter fake an email and pay for three rooms at this no-tell motel?
“Doesn’t sound crazy to me. Hines has it in his head that cracking my case will win him a Pulitzer. I hate to break it to him, but I’m small potatoes compared to what’s going on in this insane world we all live in. Prizes like that go to reporters who are on the front lines of war or who uncover large-scale corruption or when priests behave badly. Spoiler alert: happens all the time. I should know, I’ve got a front-row seat. They’re some of the kinkiest fuckers out there, and I mean that literally.”
Cope gagged. The last thing he wanted to think about was priests getting their rocks off in the bed he’d been trying to sleep in. After that little bit of trivia, Cope might not sleep until they went home. “Is there a reason he’s got such a hard-on for you?”
“Ohhh, you’re totally interested in the dirt. I love it! Promise not to tell?”
“No,” Cope said. “I need to tell Jude and our other friends what’s going on, but truth be told, I’m dying to hear the dirt.”
Cyrus groaned. “Boy, all your friends are hot as fuck! Especially the tall law enforcement guy. God, I would have fucked him until my dick—”
“Moving on,” Cope said. “Fitzgibbon, Ronan, and Jude are all members of the cold case team from Salem.”
“Witch City?” Cyrus gushed. “That’s super cool. Are they any good at their job?”
“Yeah, they’re the best. Which is another reason I think Hines wanted us all here. This way, he’s got three psychics, three detectives, and another playboy.”
“Hmm, you might be right. The little girl psychic next door is something else. It’s like she can see into my black soul.”
It was Cope’s turn to groan. “Please donotlet her see your greatest hits.” There were times when Cope was jealous of Everly’s gifts, but he didn’t envy Ten and Ronan having to explain to their six-year-old what she was seeing.
“I’m not a monster, you know.” For the first time in the conversation, Cyrus sounded serious.
