I choked on a sob I hadn’t known was coming. “Russell was almost murdered,” I answered, still keeping my voice down. I could hear Jolie rattling around in the other end of the apartment, though, so I figured I was safe. “I had to leave him with the vet.”

“Murdered?” Nick repeated.

“Yeah,” I snapped. “Murdered.” I took a deep breath, but it didn’t help. So much for The Damn Fool’s Guide to Self-Control. I’d have demanded my $14.95 back if I hadn’t highlighted so many pages. “I don’t think this forgiveness thing is going to fly,” I added. “You may need to take another approach to boarding your train.”

“There isn’t another approach,” Nick said quietly.

“Maybe your mother could work something out for you. Stick it to whoever’s in charge up there, the way she stuck it to me.”

Nick closed his eyes. Opened them again.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“You know,” I whispered back, “you look like you mean that. You even sound like you mean it. But since you probably never told me the truth in your selfish life, I’m having a hard time believing you.”

“Mojo—”

Jolie stepped into the doorway, wearing cotton pajamas that made her look about eleven years old. Her gaze glided right past Nick without catching. “I thought you were on the phone,” she said.

I smiled. “I was,” I told her. “It was just a telemarketer.”

“Liar,” Nick said, close to my ear.

My smile turned to a grimace.

“They’re hiring people in India and places like that,” Jolie said. “To make sales calls, I mean. That’s how they get past the no-call list.” She grinned. “Next time, just tell them you’d love to buy everything they’re selling, but a waitress at IHOP chopped up your last credit card.”

“Ouch,” Nick said.

My face was beginning to hurt. I wanted to tell him to shut up, and a few other choice things, too, but I didn’t dare.

I’d forgotten how perceptive my sister could be.

“Is that ghost here?” she asked. “Is that why you look as if rigor mortis set in while you were watching Comedy Central?”

“Yes!” I said, relieved, gesturing toward Nick. “He’s right here.”

“She can’t see me, Mojo,” Nick said.

“Where?” Jolie asked, squinting.

I sighed. “Never mind.” Turned to Nick. “Get out,” I said. “Go rattle chains at the foot of your mother’s bed or something.”

Jolie was wide-eyed. After all, from her viewpoint, I was talking to an empty kitchen.

Nick blinked out. Chester, however, remained, curling around my ankles and purring.

“No wonder you didn’t want me to bring Sweetie,” Jolie said.

I was stumped.

She looked down. “The cat?”

I gasped. “You can see him?”

“Of course I can see him. He’s right there, circling your shoes.”

I scooped Chester up and sank into a chair at the table.

“What’s wrong?” Jolie demanded.

“He’s dead,” I said.

“Who’s dead?” My sister took a seat of her own.

“This cat.”