"More than just an argument. I...I'm a terrible person, Rachel, an evil person. I don't deserve...no, I can't tell you to your face. You'll know soon enough anyway. There's a chaplain who visits on Thursday afternoons; I'm going to tell him everything. I don't have long to live, you know. After I'm gone, the truth can be told. You'll never forgive me and I don't blame you. I'm sorry, Rachel, I did so want to meet you but not like this. You're going to walk out of here hating me and I can't even tell you why."

"Not at all," said Rachel. "I know exactly why. And I forgive you."

Celia gave a puzzled smile, and hardly struggled at all when Rachel put the pillow over her face and held it down. It's what she wanted, Rachel told herself, what she deserved. This way, everybody gets what they want.

Celia went limp and one of the machines started beeping. Rachel glared at it, searching for a power switch. She found it and the beeping stopped, but two other machines had started flashing red lights.

A quick glance out the door confirmed that no one was in sight. She dropped the pillow behind the bed. Celia looked peaceful, almost happy.

"I suppose I should be grateful to you," Rachel whispered. "At least you got rid of Adam for me." She softly closed the door behind her and strode down the corridor to the stairwell. There were no shouts, no alarms, no running footsteps. She'd nearly reached her car before the security guard stopped her.

She told the police that there must be some mistake, she knew nothing about Celia's death. They showed her the videotape from the surveillance camera in the equipment rack next to Celia's bed. Celia had insisted on the camera's installation a few weeks ago, saying it would make her feel safer, and the hospital had grudgingly agreed. Ironic really -- the tape showed her death in excruciating detail, Rachel had to admit.

It wasn't real murder, she told them. Celia had only a few days to live anyway. It's still murder, they said.

She told them she was in shock from discovering Adam's murder. She told them about the poisoned capsules, but that just made things worse. They pointed out that hospital patients are given medication one dose at a time, never a whole bottle. The capsules were tested and turned out to be ordinary vitamins. They even accused her of faking the bottle label.

She tried to get Taylor to back up at least some of her story, but he insisted he hadn't seen her or spoken to her since dropping her home after the funeral. An affair -- what affair? Too late, she realised he had no intention of losing his trust share, let alone being implicated in a murder.

And no one at all believed her when she started talking about ghosts.

The trial was quite a public scandal. There were calls to reintroduce the death penalty. The jury took less than an hour to find her guilty.

Afterwards, she lay in her cell, staring at the concrete wall and wondering where she'd gone wrong. The wall shimmered, and there was Adam. Beside him, holding his hand, was Celia. They were smiling.

"Actually, we ghosts can talk just fine," said Adam, "but we thought the silent writing in the air and all that would be more dramatic. And I lied about being murdered, of course.

"You and Taylor weren't the only ones having an affair -- Celia and I had fallen in love in hospital. Still, I must say our affair was more platonic than yours. We were both in wheelchairs when we met."

"Even kissing was difficult," Celia smiled. "Our oxygen tubes kept getting in the way."

Adam nodded. "We knew we had to make the best of what little time we had left. I'd overheard enough of your late night phone calls to Taylor to know what the two of you were up to. The s.e.x didn't worry me particularly - you hadn't given me a genuine kiss in years -- but there was no way I was going to let you defraud the trust."

"So I faked the label on the bottle and put a few squashed vitamin capsules inside it. And I whined piteously until they agreed to install a surveillance camera," said Celia. "Adam was going downhill fast. We made sure to have a good loud screaming match that everyone would hear. I called him some dreadful things, I must say."

"The yelling itself nearly killed me," laughed Adam. "Two days later, I really was dead. A perfectly natural death. Then it was time for my amateur dramatics."

"You framed me!" shouted Rachel.

"Did we?" asked Celia. "You murdered me, remember? All for the sake of your fraud scheme, not because you cared about Adam's 'murder' in the slightest. I admit I didn't mind dying -- I was in terrible pain and wanted to rejoin Adam as soon as possible -- but nevertheless, you still murdered me. Now you can rot in jail."

"But why? Why do all this to me?" Rachel was in tears.

"Read the trust deed again," said Adam. "I've died a natural death and you've been convicted of murder, so Dan gets both our shares. I just spoke to him. He's going to start a bird sanctuary. And the Halderson Trust is safe.

"Goodbye, Rachel. Celia and I have eternity to look forward to together. I hope your time in jail is just as miserable as the loveless marriage you gave me."

And they faded back through the concrete.

"You framed me," she screamed. "You framed me!" She kicked the blank wall, pounded it until her fists bled, until the guards came and held her down. "They framed me," she told them, weeping. "Doesn't anyone believe me?"

PETER FRIEND has sold fiction to Aurealis, Interzone and Aboriginal Science Fiction magazines, the New Zealand anthologies Rutherford's Dreams and Antipodean Tales, two Magic The Gathering anthologies, and numerous magazines and newspapers. His stories have twice won the Paul John Statham Memorial Fantasy and Science Fiction writing compet.i.tion. In real life, he's a computer a.n.a.lyst, but hopes to one day become a full-time living art treasure.

Copyright (c) 2001 Peter Friend