Final Call (13 page)

Chapter Twenty-six

Her office had just begun to warm up, so Mary decided to
turn down the portable heater she kept under her desk for mornings like this. Although
Alber’s
Towing had returned the Roadster to her
driveway, she was still more comfortable walking to work when the roads were so
snow packed. So a toasty heater at her feet had been just the thing.

Of course, as soon as she bent underneath her desk, the
phone rang. Mary had learned that fate had a really bad sense of humor.

She blindly reached around the desktop for the phone. As the
phone rang for the third time, she was able to grab the handset and bring it to
her ear. “O’Reilly Investigations,” Mary said, trying to not to drop the phone
as she got out from under the desk. “How can I help you?”

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll let Faye McMullen
rest in peace.”

The phone went dead.

Mary checked the caller I.D. and saw it was hidden. She knew
the call was too brief for a trace, but she had too many years as a cop to not
at least report the incident. Taking a deep breath, she called the last person
she wanted to speak to that morning.

“Alden,” Bradley answered his phone.

She was silent for a moment, hurt and anger stealing her
voice.

“Hello?” Bradley asked.

“Bradley, this is Mary,” she said, shortly. “I just wanted
to officially report I received a threatening call regarding the McMullen case.
The call was too short for a trace and there was no caller I.D. left on my
phone. I didn’t recognize the voice, although it did sound male. I don’t feel
threatened, I just wanted to follow procedures and report the incident. Do you
have any questions?”

She heard him sigh. “Yes, I do,” he said slowly, “lots of
questions. Can I come over to your office?”

Mary felt her stomach tighten. She really did not want to do
this again, she had work to do. “I’m really quite busy, Bradley,” she said.
“Perhaps you could send me an e-mail with all of your questions.”

“Please?”

Crap.

“Fine, I’d be happy to meet with you,” she said with forced
politeness as she flipped open her calendar. “What time would be convenient for
you?”

“I’ll be over in five minutes,” he said, then hung up so she
couldn’t disagree.

           
“Well,
thanks so much for making sure you fit into my schedule,” Mary said yelled into
the dead connection. “No, really, it’s my pleasure. Why don’t I save you the
trouble and beat myself up for you?”

“You okay, girlie?” Stanley asked, poking his head around
the door. “I thought I heard you yelling at someone.”

“Stanley, your store’s next door, but there are two thick
brick walls between us, how could you hear me?”

“Well, I couldn’t have if I’d been in my store,” he said
with an unrepentant grin. “But I was worried about you, so I’ve been standing
right outside your door.”

           
“Well,
that makes sense,” Mary replied dryly. “Stanley, I’m a big girl now, I can take
care of myself.”

           
He
let himself in and sat in the chair on the other side of her desk. “Well, of
course I know that,” he said. “But, you know, we old coots like to feel needed,
so we nose our way into other folks’ business.”

“You’re not an old coot.”

“So, tell Stanley what’s got your eyes so sad.”

“I had to let Bradley know that his wife, Jeannine, isn’t
alive anymore,” she said. “I showed him her ghost.”

“Well, that must have been a relief for him,” he said. “Now
he can have some closure and move on.”

Mary shook her head. “No, it’s not that easy,” she
explained. “Jeannine was murdered and I’ve known since Christmas.”

“Why didn’t you tell him then?”

“Because she told me not to; she didn’t think he was ready.”

“And now?”

“Well, I kind of forced the issue because I didn’t like
keeping it from him anymore.”

“Yeah, that sounds just like you,” he said.
“Too honest for your own good.
And how did Bradley take it?”

Tears formed in her eyes and she brushed them away. “About
as I’d expected,” she said.

“So, our police chief
ain’t
as
smart as I thought.”

“He’s smart,” she replied. “He’s just hurt and confused.”

“Yep, so he comes out attacking the people who love him and
care for him. That makes sense.”

“It’s his wife, Stanley.”

Stanley stood up and leaned over the desk. “Little girl, if
you gave me the chance to see my sweet wife one more time, I’d be singing your
praises, not condemning you. The man’s a fool.”

The bell over the door rang and Bradley stepped inside.
Stanley looked over his shoulder and shook his head.

“Well, speak of the devil,” he muttered. “Course the devil
would be a might more welcome in my opinion.”

“Stanley, behave,” Mary whispered.

“Hello Stanley,” Bradley said. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine, just fine,” Stanley said, getting up and walking
to the door. “Least I still got some common sense.”

Stanley turned back to Mary. “See that you take care of
yourself, hear?”

She smiled and winked, “Thanks, you old coot.”

Bradley waited until Stanley was out the door before taking
the chair he’d vacated. “So, what was that all about?” he asked.

Mary shrugged. “He’s just looking out for me,” she replied
coolly, as she pasted on a professional smile and folded her hands together on
top of her desk. “And what can I do for you today, Chief?”

Bradley sat back in the chair. “Okay, I deserve that,” he
said. “Obviously there is some tension between us and I might have let my
emotions get in the way of my job.”

Mary sat still, listening to him. Her stomach was churning
and she felt like she was going to be sick.

“You aren’t going to say anything?” he asked.

“Well, agreeing with you would be rude,” she replied. “And
contrary to popular belief, I don’t tell lies.”

He leaned toward her. “Mary, this isn’t easy for me.”

Mary pushed her chair back and stood up. “Well then, Bradley,
let me make it easy,” she said. “You and I have to work together. We not only
have to solve Faye’s murder, we also have to try and figure out what happened
to Jeannine.”

He started to say something, but she raised her hand to stop
him.

“I am not working for you,” she said clearly, “I’m working
for Jeannine; she is my client. So, you have no say in the matter. And if you
don’t want to work with me,
that’s
fine, I’ll do it on
my own and I’ll share any information I find.”

She leaned over; her hands braced on the desk and faced him
squarely. “However, I really can’t handle the emotional drama of dealing with
you on a personal basis. So, if you don’t mind, let’s go back to being
professionals and nothing else.”

Bradley sat back in the chair, amazed by the intensity in
her voice. “Mary, I realize that perhaps you didn’t mean to lie,” he said. “And
I’m sure that eventually we can be friends again.”

She nearly screamed, instead she took a deep breath. “No,
you don’t understand,” she explained slowly. “I have to do this for me. Cops
are supposed to trust each other. Cops are always supposed to know their
partner has their back. Without that trust, you can’t do your job. Without that
trust, you’ve got nothing.”

She looked directly at him. “Bradley, we don’t have that
trust,” she said. “Maybe because emotions got in the way, I don’t know. But we
don’t have that kind of trust.”

“So, we have nothing,” he repeated.

She nodded. “But, when the emotions weren’t there, we had a
good working relationship,” Mary added. “So, that’s where we need to be.”

He nodded. “Okay, I can be there,” he said. “Because I agree
we need to work together. And I am not upset you are going to be working
Jeannine’s case with me, I’m grateful.”

She nodded. “I’m happy to help. If you’d like, we can talk
over the case tonight.”

“Should I come to your place?” he asked.

Not in a million years
, she thought.

“Let’s meet downtown at Nine East,” she said, naming an
upscale café and coffee shop. “I’m sure Brenda will let us use a table in the
back.”

Bradley tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice.
He had been so comfortable in their old relationship; this moving back was
going to be hard. “That’ll be great. I’ll bring my files.”

“Speaking of files,” she said, pulling out a manila folder.
“This is your copy of the information I’ve gathered about Faye.”

She pushed the folder across the desk and Bradley opened it,
scanning the contents. He let out a slow whistle. “Wow, she was loaded,” he
said.

“Yep, she was pretty comfortable,” Mary agreed. “I don’t
know if it’s the reason for her murder, but it’s an awfully big motivator.”

“Have you spoken with her lately?” he asked.

“No, not since she realized her life was like a bad
rendition of A Christmas Carol.”

When she saw the question in his eyes, she smiled. “She
wants redemption and is trying to use these last days on earth to do good
deeds.”

“Ah,” he nodded. “I get it now.
So, other
than the phone call this morning, any other threats?”

She shrugged.

“What?”

“I got
creeped
out on my way home
from Winneshiek the other night,” she admitted. “But I think it was mostly
overactive imagination.”

“Why would someone be threatening you in regards to Faye’s
death?”

           
“According
to Dan Stevens, people in town are beginning to realize that I’m not a
charlatan and can actually use my abilities to help solve crimes,” she said. “I
have no idea why I’m suddenly legit.”

“Well, damn,” Bradley said, dropping his head into his
hands. “I hadn’t even thought of this angle.”

“What angle?” she asked. “What did you do?”

“I asked the City Council for a line item in my budget to
hire you as a consultant,” he said. “I told them that I’d worked with you and
the Chicago Police Department also called you in on special cases, and we
should pay you for the time you spend helping the city.”

“Why in the world did you do that?” she asked.

“I figured with the extra money you could buy a car that
actually runs in the winter,” he said. “And...”

He looked uncomfortable.

“And...” Mary prompted.

“And I was damn tired of the people in town who looked at
you like you were a kook, when you were risking your life to save their butts.”

Crap. He could be so sweet when
he wasn’t such a big jerk.

She sighed. “First, thank you, that
was
very nice,” she said. “And if I get killed because of it, well, it was worth
it.”

He looked up sharply and she laughed. “Sorry, couldn’t
resist.”

“Not funny, O’Reilly.”

“Second, I really don’t need the money,” she said. “I have
this fairly large bank account with my pension and disability. Unfortunately,
even though Gracie Williams, the top psychologist for the City of Chicago, and
I agree that I’m not crazy, the official stance of the city is that anyone who
thinks they see ghosts is nuts and needs to be on disability. I mailed the
checks back to them for the first year, but they kept returning them. Then,
they went to automatic deposit, so I just accept them.”

“You have money?”

“Well, not as much as Faye,” she admitted. “But I could
retire tomorrow and be pretty comfortable.”

“Then why do you drive that British soup can?”

“Hey, it’s a classic. And I like it,” she said. “And I
decided after I died that I wouldn’t worry about practicalities all the time.
That I would take time, smell the roses and drive a Roadster.”

“You really are crazy,” he said.

“Yeah, well that leads me to my third point,” she said. “No
matter what you say, some people are going to think I’m crazy, because they
just can’t bring themselves to believe in ghosts. That’s too scary. So, rather
than believe in something unknown, it’s easier to decide I’m a kook.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Doesn’t matter if I’m okay or not,” she said. “It just is.
I can spend hours worrying about it, but it won’t change a thing.”

“For a kook, you’re pretty smart,” he admitted.

“Yeah, well just don’t let anyone know,” she said. “Who
knows what will happen?”

Chapter Twenty-seven

Mrs. Phoebe Baker parked her car in the driveway of the
pastor’s home, made her way up the neatly shoveled walk and rang the doorbell. The
door was answered nearly immediately by one of the Johnson girls.
Was that Vivian or Rachael?
She could
never keep them straight.

“Hello, Mrs. Baker, would you like to come in?” the little
girl asked.

Such well-mannered children
, she thought,
Lucinda had done a wonderful job with her
family too.

“Yes, I would like to come in,” she said. “And I need to
speak with your mother.”

Rachael led her to the front room. “Please sit down,” she
said. “I’ll get my mother. Daddy’s already here, if you need to speak to him.
But he’s a ghost, so people can’t see him.”

Phoebe was a little startled with the comment, but really,
so soon after her father’s death a little imagination was understandable.

Hezekiah was just as surprised at Rachael’s announcement and
a little disconcerted when the child passed by and waved a shy hello to him. But
he couldn’t let that distract him. He had to find out what Mrs. Baker was going
to say to Lucinda, and, more importantly, what Lucinda would think of their
outrageous plan.

He watched Lucinda as she entered the room. She was dressed
in a black suit and pillbox hat.
Why is
she so dressed up? Who is she trying to impress?
Then he remembered today
was his funeral.

Lucinda came forward and took Phoebe’s hands. “I’m sorry I
kept you waiting, I’m just trying to get the children ready...”

“Yes, of course, the funeral,” Phoebe said. “And I know this
is a bad time, but I had hoped to bring you some news that would ease your mind
a little.”

“Yes?” Lucinda asked.

“Can you sit with me on the couch for just a few minutes?”

“Of course,” Lucinda agreed, perching next to Phoebe. “What
can I do for you?”

“Well, my dear, I’m sincerely hoping this is something I am
able to do for you...and your family.”

Lucinda shook her head, “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“The board met last night about the future of the
congregation.”

“Oh, Phoebe, Mrs. Baker, I assure you that we are packing
and trying to get the house ready for the next minister,” she said quickly. “I
don’t want to be a burden on the church.”

Phoebe smiled at her. “Honey, don’t you worry about that,”
she said. “I came here with good news. We voted last night that we want you to
stay and continue as the minister for our congregation.”

Lucinda was speechless.

“Yeah, what do you think of that?” Hezekiah said.
“Going behind my back.
Getting the board
to vote for you.
Getting what you always wanted I’d say.”

“You can’t mean this,” Lucinda said, pulling her hands away
from Phoebe. “I am not worthy to take my husband’s place.”

“You said it, woman,” Hezekiah added.
“Takes
more than baking pies and visiting nursing homes to be a real minister.”

Phoebe reached forward and patted Lucinda’s arm. “Now, I
know this is not the best day to talk about it,” she said. “But think about how
much this would help your children. You wouldn’t have to move. You wouldn’t
have to worry about how to support them. You would have employment with people
who love you.”

“Okay, she does have a point there,” Hezekiah agreed.

Lucinda stood up and paced across the room. “But I can’t
allow the church to offer my family charity of this magnitude,” she argued.
“You need a true minister of God to guide the congregation.”

“That’s true,” Hezekiah agreed. “Not just anyone can take my
place.”

“This is not charity, I can assure you, Lucinda,” she said.
“This is what is best for our congregation. You are who and what we need. We
will be happy to pay for you to complete your degree and we spoke with your dean,
he is willing to have you finish your degree while you are on the job.”

“You spoke to my dean?”

“Yes, he said wonderful things about you, Lucinda,” she
said. “He said that he knew you would make a wonderful minister.”

“That man couldn’t preach his way out of a paper sack,”
Hezekiah muttered. “And he never liked me.”

Lucinda shook her head. “I appreciate your offer, but I
can’t, I just can’t,” she cried, shaking her head and wiping away the tears.

“Yeah, she can’t,” he said, and then he turned to Lucinda.
“Why can’t you?”

Phoebe stood and went to her. She put her arms around her
and gave her a hug. “Listen, I know this is a shock,” she said. “And with this
being Hezekiah’s funeral, it’s probably too much for you to deal with. I’m
going to give you a few days to think about it. Then I’ll come back for an
answer.”

“Thank you, Phoebe, but I don’t think I’ll change my mind.”

Phoebe stepped back and smiled. “You take a couple days and
consider it; perhaps you’ll have a different point of view.”

Lucinda nodded. “Alright, I will. Thank you.”

Hezekiah watched Phoebe let herself out of the house. Lucinda
walked unseeing to the couch and sat down. Tears filled her eyes; she buried
her head in her hands and wept.

Hezekiah floated over to her. “Oh, now, there, Lucinda,” he
said. “I know you miss me and I know you realize you can’t take my place.
But there’s no need to carry on so.
So, just take a deep
breath and pull yourself together. Woman, you got a funeral to attend.”

As if she’d heard him, Lucinda lifted her head, dried her
tears and took a deep breath. She stood and walked to the hall.

“Vivian, Rachael, Alvin, Rudy,” she called, “it’s time to go
over to the church.”

Vivian came down the stairs, dressed in a somber skirt and
blouse. She walked over and placed her hand in her mother’s. “Momma,” she said.
“Are we saying goodbye to Father today?”

Lucinda nodded and quickly wiped away a few more tears.
“Yes, dear, we are.”

“Is Father going to miss us?” she asked.

“What do you mean, dear?”

“Well, Father never seemed to want to be with us when he was
alive, so I wonder if he’s going to miss us now that he’s dead.”

Lucinda knelt down and gathered the little girl in her arms.
“Yes, my dear, I’m sure your father misses you very much,” she said. “I’m sure
the only thing he’s thinking of right now is his wonderful children.”

Hezekiah felt an odd burning in his chest. He hadn’t thought
of his children at all. He hadn’t worried about their well-being. He hadn’t
thought about missing them. All he had thought about was
himself
.

The rest of his children joined their mother in the foyer. They
put their coats, hats and gloves on over their church clothes and prepared to
leave the house.

“Mama,” Rachael said as they were leaving the house. “Is
Daddy coming too?”

Lucinda nodded. “I’m sure he will be there with us,” she
said. “Just to be sure we are all fine.”

Rachael glanced back at her father. “Well, then he better
hurry or he’ll be late.”