Fifth Grave Past the Light (9 page)

“I’m fairly certain I do.” He uncrossed his legs and sat forward. “I will get to the bottom of this, Davidson.”

“I understand.”

“Do you?”

I chose not to answer. Instead, I let my gaze wander to the left as he stared at me.

“I think there’s something else going on here, something that perhaps can’t be explained by normal means. And I’ll find out what it is.”

When he turned and left, I let out the breath I was holding. Bloody hell. Before I knew it, the entire world was going to know I was the grim reaper. Wait, maybe I could get a reality TV contract. We could call it
Grim in the City.

By the time the captain – who was sadly no relation to Captain Jack – left, I was shaking. Literally. Not once, but twice today I’d been accused of underhandedness. This was insane. What was wrong with the world? Didn’t they know that ghosts and supernatural powers where little girls helped their dads and uncles solve cases didn’t exist?

It was books. It was television shows and movies. They had desensitized the world. Damn writers.

I took the interior stairs down to the restaurant and saw my father. He was a tall man with a stick-figure body and sandy hair forever in need of a trim. “You’re back!” I said, caught off guard for the third time that day.

“I am. You seem surprised. Or, maybe, nervous?”

I laughed. Loud. It was awkward. “What? Me? Not at all.”

“I know about the gun, Charley.”

“That was totally not my fault.”

“Mmm-hmmm,” he said, giving me a quick hug.

Dad and I hadn’t been on the best of terms lately. He’d wanted me out of the PI biz, and I’d wanted him out of mine. He went about it the wrong way, trying to force me out by getting me arrested, among other things. Then I found out he’d had cancer and wanted to see me safe before he passed. The fact that he magically healed was a conundrum. One for which he thought I had the answers. I didn’t. I was pretty sure healing was not part of my gig. I was the grim reaper, for goodness’ sake.

“Can we talk soon?” he asked.

Discomfort prickled over my skin. He wanted answers that I didn’t have. Since I was certain that’s what he wanted to talk about, I deflected. “Is that a new shirt?”

“Soon, pumpkin,” he said before heading back to his office. He was so demanding.

I glanced around the bar and was floored at how many women were in there once again. The place had just opened for lunch like twenty seconds earlier. What the hell?

Shaking my head, I sat at my usual corner booth and looked at a menu for some unknown reason. I had the thing memorized, but that quesadilla from last night had to be a new item. There was nothing about it on the menu. Maybe it was a special.

I spotted Mrs. Tidwell coming in and stood to wave her over.

“Wow,” she said, unwrapping her stylish scarf. She was around my age and had been married to Marvin for just a little over a year. “This place is busy.”

I frowned and looked around. “Right? It’s never this busy this early. And there are so many women.”

“That’s unusual?” she asked as she settled in and ordered a water from our server.

“It is. This is kind of a cop hangout, and I’ve just never seen so many women in here. And once again, it is hotter than sin.”

“I’m fine, but if you’re hot —”

“No, it’s okay.”

Before we could get down to business, our server came back with our waters. I ordered a green chili stew, my usual, and Mrs. Tidwell ordered a taco salad. Maybe I should have ordered that. It sounded wonderful. Or maybe I should have ordered the chicken quesadilla from the night before. Now I was being indecisive. I hated the indecisive me. I liked the decisive me, the one who ordered the usual, then longed for something else I saw as it passed on a platter after I was halfway finished with mine.

“Don’t you think so?”

“I’m sorry.” Had she been talking that whole time? I hated the ADD me, too. I much preferred —

“What do you think?”

Shit. Did it again. I called out to our server. “Can you bring me a coffee, too?” Coffee would help. Or not. Either way.

“So, what did you find out?”

I pulled out the pictures and told Valerie Tidwell everything I’d found out so far. “I know this seems damning, but I’d like to keep checking, if you don’t mind.”

She sniffled into her napkin. “I knew it. I could just tell. He’s been pulling away from me, you know? He used to notice everything. If I styled my hair differently. If I raised the hem on a skirt. I thought it was so charming, but now, nothing. It’s like I’ve become invisible.”

“Hon, this isn’t really evidence that he has been cheating on you. He invited my associate to a hotel, but that’s as far as it got.”

Through the tears, “And I suppose he just wanted to play canasta.” Canasta was fun. Or it sounded fun. I’d never actually played, but it sounded kind of kinky for some reason.

“I know this is hard,” I said, “but can I ask you about your weight?”

“My weight?”

“Yes, it’s just, well, you weighed quite a bit more when you got married.”

I’d embarrassed her. “Yes, I’ve had a weight problem my whole life. I had surgery so I could shed some pounds. It was beginning to affect my health. Why?”

“I just, it’s just that I think that could be part of the problem. My associate is… well, bigger. And he wouldn’t give me the time of day. I think he likes bigger women.”

Her face morphed into disbelief. “He’s cheating on me because I lost weight?”

“No, Mrs. Tidewell. If he’s cheating on you, it’s because he is not the man you thought he was. This is not your fault. It’s his.”

“I just can’t believe it. I mean, I thought men left their wives when they gained weight, not the other way around.”

“I was a little surprised as well. But again, your weight shouldn’t matter. If he really loved you, he would love you for you, not your body. But I have to be honest. I’m a little worried about you.”

“Me?” she said, her brows drawn.

“Yes. Your husband saw the recording device I’d put on my associate’s scarf. He knows that he was set up.”

“Yes, I got your messages. He spent the night in jail and is going to be arraigned this morning.”

“I’m worried about you. He was pretty angry when he found that mic. I’m not sure what he’ll do.”

“Oh, no, he’s a pussycat. He’s never raised a hand to me, if that’s what you’re worried about. He knows better.”

“Well, good. That makes me feel a little better, but just in case, do you have someone you can call?”

“I do. I can call my parents anytime. He reveres my father. He wouldn’t risk making him angry.”

I wasn’t so sure about that.

“Just please call me if you need to.”

“I will.”

Our food came and we ate in relative silence. Partly because I wasn’t sure what else to say, how else to console Mrs. Tidwell, but mostly because I was once again in heaven. The green chili stew, which was always delicious, seemed to melt on my tongue and cause each and every taste bud in my mouth to burst with joy. It was amazing.

Dad walked up. “How is it?”

“Incredible. Will you send my regards to Sammy? He has outdone himself again.”

“Sammy’s out, hon. Broke his leg trying to ski off his roof. I’ve warned him about mixing beer and ski equipment.”

“Then who —?”

Dad’s phone rang and he excused himself to answer it.

“Are you sure I can’t do anything else?” I asked Valerie.

She stood to leave with her shoulders straight and her chin high. “No. I know exactly who I’m calling next.”

“Who would that be?”

“My lawyer.”

I smiled and got up to leave, too. Uncle Bob and I were meeting at the bridge to find a missing person. Just as I headed out the back door, Jessica walked in. Her expression was one of pity.

“What?” I asked her, suddenly self-conscious.

“I mean, really? Again?”

I looked around. “Hey, I was here first.”

“And I’ll be here last,” she promised.

God, she was good at the comebacks. I had nothing. I felt like we were back in high school.

“Okay.” I continued on my way.

I was still a little floored Sammy had broken his leg. And skiing, no less. That had to be painful.

I headed to the parking lot and searched out Misery. The Jeep, not the emotion. My days of being miserable were well behind me. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t wreak misery on others. I called Garrett.

“Hello, Charles.”

He was so formal. “Hey, Swopes. I have a job for you.”

“I’m not looking for a job.”

“Pleeeeease.”

“Okay. What?”

That was easy. “Can you run a name for me, see if he has any priors real quick? I want to make sure my client is safe before her husband gets out of jail.”

“Name.”

Honestly, he acted as though he didn’t like me anymore. Wait, maybe he didn’t. “Do you still like me?”

“I never liked you.”

Oh, right. He had a point. “Marvin Tidwell.”

“Got it. I’ll call you back.”

I climbed into Misery and called Uncle Bob. “We hooking up?”

“Why does everything out of your mouth make me sound incestuous?”

“Um, I wasn’t aware that it did. Perhaps you have a guilty conscience.”

“Charley.”

“Is there something you need to get off your chest? Besides that skank I saw you with the other day?”

He cleared his throat. “You saw that?”

“It gave me nightmares.”

“I was undercover.”

“I stopped falling for that when I was five.”

“Oh. Do you know where you’re going?”

“Kind of. Are you already out there?”

“On the way now.”

“Okay, I’ll be there in a few.”

I hung up just as Cookie texted me again.

That’s what I’d do, anyway. Knives were hard to fend off. Mostly ’cause they freaking hurt when they sliced through your flesh.

On the way to the bridge to search for a body – a dead one – I decided to try another voice. I brought up the pirated app, punched in my destination, and listened as a being grunted and groaned. After a moment, he said, “In one thousand feet, turn right you will.”

I loved Yoda. I thought about buying him and putting him on my mantel. I didn’t, mostly because I didn’t have a mantel, but during a recent addiction to a shop-at-home channel, I bought a tiny Yoda key ring that gave me comfort on long lonely nights. He didn’t vibrate or anything. I just liked having someone tiny and powerful and oddly charming near me.

Sadly, I had no idea where this bridge was. I didn’t get out this way often, and finding an old bridge in the middle of nowhere was harder than I’d expected. But two things were striking me as being just a bit harder. The fact that the dead naked man was back and the fact that a huge black SUV was so far up my ass, I could almost read his VIN from my rearview.

I slowed down. He slowed down. I thought about waving him past me, but if he’d wanted to pass, he would have. The interior of his vehicle was so dark, I couldn’t see enough to get a description. All I could make out were dark glasses and a black baseball cap.

“Lost, you are. Make a U-turn, you will.”

Shit. Did I miss a turn? I was losing my bond with Yoda. He was mocking me, I could tell. I scanned the area. I couldn’t have missed a turn. There wasn’t one to miss.

SUV Guy slowed down until he was about twenty feet back. Just when I started to breathe easier, he gunned his engine and darted forward.

Damn. “Hold on,” I said to Dead Naked Man, “he’s going to hit us.” If I veered off the road to evade him, he could broadside me, so I stayed the course, dialing Uncle Bob while trying to keep Misery on the road.

“In two hundred feet, bear right, you will.”

Bear right? There was no bearing right. There was no bearing at all. Clearly Yoda was going to get someone killed.

Just as the SUV was about to crash into me, he slammed on his brakes, losing just enough traction to swerve into the other lane. But he regained control quickly and started the game all over again.

“Where are you?” Uncle Bob asked.

“In five hundred feet, find your destination you will.”

Oh, awesome. I’d made it. “I’m close, I think. But someone —” I squeaked when the SUV pulled the same maneuver, rocketing forward, a microsecond away from driving up my ass before slamming on his brakes.

I let go of the breath I was holding. “Black SUV, GMC with chrome grille and moldings, tinted windows, male driver under the age of fifty, dark glasses and black baseball cap.”

“Got it. What’s going on?”

“He just tried to give me an GMC enema. Twice.”

“I’m on my way,” he said. It sounded like he was running to his own SUV.

I cursed New Mexico’s lack of requirement for front license plates. The guy backed way off before turning around and heading the other direction, too far for me to get his numbers. And no way was I turning around to try to get them.

“That’s okay. He backed off.”

I’m not sure why I didn’t just have Ubie swing by to get me. It would have been much less traumatic. Not to mention the fact that it just isn’t as easy
not
to look at genitals as one might think. Uncle Bob was standing by the open door of his gray SUV, hands on hips, looking very worried.

The bridge was one of those old railroad bridges, all rusted metal bracings and rivets. I had no idea it was even out here. It was gorgeous against the stark landscape of New Mexico.

“Did you get anything else?” he asked when I climbed out, trying not to crumple to the ground.

“Besides lost? Freaking Yoda.” Blaming Yoda seemed like the right thing to do. “That guy could’ve killed me. And there’s a naked man in my car. He’s elderly.”

I tried to play it cool, but Ubie saw right through my bravado. I decided to name my bravado Saran Wrap. Then again, my uncontrollable shaking could’ve given me away. He pulled me into his arms.

“No one has driven by here since the faded red Pinto with a chicken coop strapped to the top.”