“Are you getting an image?”
“I don’t know.”
“He’s a redhead?”
Goose had started his drawing with a vague face shape and long, orange hair.
“Maybe he’s a relative,” I said.
“Good. Maybe.”
“I think I’m seeing something…vintage.”
“Like what era?” Goose asked.
“Hippie, peace and love, bellbottom denim, sweater vest, and…that thing.” I brought my hands to my throat. “A turtleneck.”
“Hmm. I kind of got that, too.”
“We tend to think alike.”
“Uh huh.” Goose kept drawing. “I hear a jingle.”
“Wedding bells?”
He took a break from his work to flash me a smile. “Maybe…softer, though.”
“Vintage, jingle, redhead…If I never go back to the pharmacy, we could get our own TV show, Ghost Detectives, or something.”
“We’ll do whatever you want.”
“All I have to do, now, is figure that out.”
“All we have to do right now is what we’re doing. It’s a sound I’ve heard a million times, one I should recognize.”