Her nervous stomach knotted as she waited for Maxine to answer. She’d stalled as long as she could in order to call Maxine at a somewhat decent hour. She’d cleaned the tuna off the walls, showered and, once John had left, had packed her suitcase. Maxine was an early riser, hopefully today she’d be up and— “Celeste,” Maxine said when she answered. “Is everything okay?” “Nothing’s okay.” Celeste swallowed back a sob, then leaned into the sofa and decided the hell with it. She’d almost stabbed her husband during the night, who cared what anyone thought if she wanted to cry like a baby about it. “I’ve packed my bags and plan to find a motel to stay in until this is over.” “Oh, honey, what are you talking about? The ghost? Has it gotten that bad?” Celeste wiped her cheek. “Worse than I imagined,” she said, then told Maxine everything that had happened from the moment she and Barney had entered Denis’s trailer.
