Being dead is kind of a drag. I just realized how severe my coffee addiction was. I feel like I'm going through a rehabilitation period. I'm sweating. Kind of. I mean I can't actually sweat so I'm doing the closest thing I can do to sweating. Spirit sweating. That should be the name of a yoga place or something.

I waited in that room. I had a cork-board of important information along with a poster with Don't Touch! written on it. Ms. Sloan came in multiple times updating me on the situation with my office. All she's told me, once it's all boiled down, is that my office is still occupied by the Defective Detective A.K.A Terrence Slodavich. The thought of that little frog in my comfortable office chair made me want to beat him senseless. That guy trying to take my office made me nauseous. He wanted to go into that office in MY house because it would mean he was the greatest detective. He wanted to take my title and everything else.

Terry is an evil son of a bitch. I don't care much about my title but I love my leather sitting chair... and that bastard wants to steal it. Ass-burger. I friggin' hate that guy. I hope Ms. Sloan doesn't let him desecrate my chair and my prized library of case files. Hopefully they take my will seriously. I seriously doubt it though. I'm going to keep investigating to keep my mind off that asshole.

Ms. Sloan stopped by again. I left a note on the computer that asked her to read my journal. My journal has the latest notes in it about all my cases. I followed her around and she read it. She took pictures and stored the original. Good ole Jessica. She sent the pictures to a judge along with pictures of my will. She also posted the pictures on a website that she had set up for people to send me the most confusing crimes. She also sent them to all the news companies and went to go see Terry.

"He's alive," Ms. Sloan said.

"Ms. Sloan, I realize this has been hard for you, but you need to learn to let go," Terry responded.

"I don't think you understand. Look at this journal." She showed him the pictures.

"Is this his?"

She nodded.

"What about it?"

"This was added in yesterday."

"How can you tell? It's not dated."

"This case came in yesterday. Also it talks about raiding a tool store to find the murder weapon for one of your most recent cases and the mysterious floating file."

"You're lying."

"See for yourself."

He looked at the submission and the journal. "What the Hell? You're pulling my leg!"

"Well, a great detective, such as yourself, should be able to tell that the writing samples match earlier samples in the journal. The only two explanations for this phenomenon are either that he is alive or his spirit is hanging around."

"YOU'RE LYING!" He pushed everything off his desk and approached her. "THE ONLY REASON YOU'RE BRINGING HIM UP IS YOU DON'T WANT ME TO HAVE THE TITLE OF THE GREATEST DETECTIVE!" I hit him on the back of the head with a file. "What the Hell?"

On a piece of paper, I wrote, Get away from Ms. Sloan, you weasel! I'm still here in spirit! Compare this handwriting to the journal! The only thing Ms. Sloan can forge that's mine is my signature!

He looked like he had seen a ghost. He hadn't of course. You can't see ghosts. I don't know if I've mentioned this before but you can't see ghosts unless the ghost has been in the spirit world so long that said ghost has lost his/her marbles.

He ran from the room in the funniest way. It was the first time I had ever seen him legitimately scared of me. Being a spirit trapped in the human world has its advantages.

I found out today that you, as a spirit in the human world, can pass through walls. I also found, through expensive experimentation, that, contrary to popular belief, not any camera can catch all spirits. You can see spirits but only through a certain camera. I also found that the type of camera varies on the type of spirit. For me, a thermal camera will work. I am usually colder than the area around me.

Oh, and you can't just pass through any old wall. Sometimes, you can't even pass through any old door. Since the physical elements of this world are Darren's design, sometimes doors aren't lined up. For that reason sometimes there is a hole in the wall and a barrier where the door ought to be. That means, in this dimension, you pass through walls. How cool is it to think that you can pass through a wall in any given day of your life? I've found a substance that will allow me to tell whether there is a door or not. Spirit smoke. Spirit smoke will stop in the door way if there is a barrier. Spirit fog won't work and neither will any other substance in the spirit dimension.

I've also found that I can leave footprints in a solid dust substance in the human dimension, rain will drip off of me, and I can become visible by dumping flour all over me. Scared Ms. Sloan half to death. She tried to hug me but I'm not all the way there. Thank goodness for that. I'm not one for physical, emotional, or mental connection. Now that I think of it, I think Ms. Sloan is the closest one to me, physically, emotionally, and mentally. Aw, man! I wanted to die a loner. If anyone actually cared for me, then they'd quit their crying and through a big party. I want to see if I can still get wasted in the spirit world.

One more thing before I get back on the case. It seems my journal updates as I write. If Jessica were to open my journal right now she would see the words appearing on the pages in real time. This whole thing is really strange. An interesting experience.