Excerpt: Dead Wrong

James had discovered that being a ghost was horrendously boring.

He couldn't work a computer, TVs went into hysterics whenever he got near them, and even if he knocked a book off a shelf, it didn't matter, because he couldn't turn the pages. He'd watched the autopsy for a bit, but found it entirely too disturbing to watch himself being cut open like a frog in science class. When they got to the brain, he fled.
So now he was stuck drifting along barely over the tops of the street lamps. At least he got to go out and get a change of scenery, unlike some. God help bound spirits. No wonder they were always possessing people. Poor things probably just wanted a breath of fresh air.

Jamie idly floated down to eavesdrop on a large group of barely-adults coming out of a bar. It wasn't something he'd have normally done, but again, he had precious little to occupy his time now. The name of the killer, the REAL one, not the poor donkey the police had pinned the wrong tail on, came up, followed by either curses or kisses. He smiled, deciding that if he couldn't convince that fool detective to go rummage about the man's offices, there was no real problem in taking a peek himself.

Disgustingly dull as it was, there were SOME advantages to being dead. Not needing a warrant to go snooping was a good one.