Givin' Up The Ghost (An Indigo Eady Paranormal Mystery) (13 page)

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F
or a minute my nightmare included a crime scene with me
lying prone and surrounded by flashing police lights. But the blinking
Christmas lights around the snug window eventually came into view. I lay on the
bench, completely disoriented, not knowing how I got there. I tried to sit up,
but wobbled back down.

I groaned.

“Good, you’re awake,” said Simon. “Can you sit up? Go slowly
now.” He pulled me gently by my arm until I was in the upright position, and
then squeezed in beside me. I listed against his shoulder, like a sinking ship.

I tried to focus, squinting my eyes until both of him merged
into one. “What happened?” I raised a bandaged hand to my head and gazed around
the table at the concerned faces; Simon, Badger, Riley and Cappy. The serving
girl floated around, too, acting as if she was working. But I could tell she
was eavesdropping.

My skull screamed, stomach churned and dizziness assailed
me. The new bandage wrapped around my hand caught my attention. Pulling the
gauze away, I peeked in. I could now add broken glass cuts to the blisters, but
at least the blood was gone. I could handle the ache, but not blood.

“You’re all right, now,” said Riley. “Here, have a sip of
water.” She looked as fresh as I was grubby, in a lime green cowl-neck sweater
and designer jeans, her short shiny hair tucked behind one ear.

She handed a glass of water across the table. As I reached
for it, I remembered. Dickey Dan’s. Stephen Clarke.
The pint glass!
“I...I don’t feel well.” Stale alcohol and vomit smell wafted from my grungy
blue-lavender blouse, the one that matched my eyes so well. I sort of
remembered wallowing on the floor of Dickey Dan’s before...
crap
...vomiting
all over Badger’s boots.

Simon inched away and Cappy shoved a wastebasket into my
hands.

I glared grumpily at the whole room in general, before
stopping at Badger, who watched warily from the other side of the table.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I did it again, didn’t I?”

He nodded, his expression unreadable. He didn’t need to say
anything for me to figure it out. I was a disaster waiting for a place to land.

Drunk twice in one week without ever having a drop pass my
lips. I sighed. “I...I think I’m hung over.”

“I told you she was sloshed!” exclaimed Simon. “Like the
other day when we were having lunch and Claude Burns...”

“I am
not
sloshed!” I said heatedly, followed by a
gasp of pain. I pressed the cool water glass to my forehead. “Not really,” I
said more quietly, mindful of my throbbing head.

“You were!” Simon laughed. “That
psycho
thing you do
not discounted.”

“Psychometry!” I said, glowering. “The glass. Stephen
Clarke’s glass. It contained his energy, took on his drunkenness, and when I
touched it...” I gasped again. “I just remembered. The vision.” I looked across
the table at Badger. “Remember? He said your dad shoved him when he went to his
office. But that’s not all! He threatened to kill your dad. He said something
like,
‘Nobody messes with Stephen Clarke - I’ll kill you first.’”
I
described my vision, trying not to leave out any details.

Badger slapped his palms against the table and jumped up. “I
knew he bloody well wasn’t telling us everything.” He paced the small room,
four steps left, four steps right, running his fingers through his hair. “The
thing is, though, we can’t use it as evidence and the only witnesses were my
dad and Shelly.”

“And they’re both gone,” Simon added.

“But a threat doesn’t mean ‘e went through with it,” said
Cappy. He wasn’t being contrary this time, only stating a fact. I was glad he
had stopped baiting the gang, and now dressed normally, in holey jeans and
hoodie.

“That’s true,” said Riley. “But he can definitely go to the
top of the suspect list.” She scribbled notes on the murder board, as Cappy and
the serving wench looked over her shoulder.

The afternoon grew dark and someone drew the curtains. The
fireplace cast a warm glow while shadows danced on the walls. I excused myself
to go to the ladies room, erm, I mean
loo
. Making my way down the badly
lit hall, a shadow turning the corner caught my eye. But when I reached the
corner, nobody was there. I shook my head.  I must still be buzzed from the
Psychometry reading.

Riley brought sandwiches and hot tea and coffee for our
dinner. The aroma made my stomach turn.

Badger filled in the gang about our lunch with Dexter, and
the information he gave us about how in addition to being insanely jealous, Nat
was also physically abusive – something the police didn’t know about, as his
ex-girlfriend had not reported the abuse to the police.

“And let’s not forget your vision when you shook Nat’s
hand,” added Badger. “That confirms it. We know he’s violent whether the police
know it or not.”

“Will we tell the police?” asked Cappy.

“No,” said Badger. “Dexter already did. Besides, they’ve
botched this investigation enough as it is. Nat goes to the top of our list,
along with Stephen Clarke, that’s all.”

“Yes,” I said, “but let’s keep our minds open. We still have
a lot to investigate and we have no evidence against Nat or Stephen except that
they’re both jealous and potentially violent. Remember, we don’t have physical
evidence that implicates either of them.”

“I ‘ad another thought,” said Cappy. “I don’t know if it
makes any sense or if I’m totally off base, but...” His face flushed mauve.

“Go ahead.” I encouraged Cappy to continue. The youngest in
the group at fourteen, he was smarter in many ways. Especially when it came to
street-smarts and criminal activity, the little guy could probably teach us a
thing or three.

He continued. “I was wondering. Could it have been an ‘onor
killing? With Nat, I mean. I don’t know if ‘e follows his cultural traditions
or not, but sometimes, when something big is going on, you go back to yer
roots.”

Nobody spoke for an eternity. Cappy squirmed, examining our
faces for signs of derision. But the silence was only shock that we hadn’t come
up with the idea sooner. Then Simon pounded his fist on the table and everyone
started talking at once.

“That’s brilliant,” Simon exclaimed. “Why didn’t we think of
that before?”

“Yes, why haven’t the cops investigated that line of
thinking?” said Badger, a tone of amazement in his voice.

“That’s brilliant, Cappy,” said Riley.

Cappy flushed an even brighter red and looked down at the
table.

“How do we go about checking on something like that?” I
asked. “I’m pretty sure his family wouldn’t appreciate us asking them those
questions.”

“Not to mention the fact that they’re probably in on it.
It’s not only about him, but the honor of the whole family,” added Simon.

We sat thinking for a minute.

“I know!” exclaimed Riley. “We can ask Padma. She was
Shelly’s best friend. She’d know.”

“Brilliant!” said Badger. “We can look for her at the MEC.”

Riley scribbled additional notes on the board.

“Right then. Who’s free tomorrow?” asked Badger.

I raised my hand.

“Indigo. Who else is free?” Badger looked around the table
for other volunteers, but they all had to work. His gaze shifted back to me and
we locked eyes. “No!” he said loudly. “No way!”

“Why not?” I argued. “What harm could I come to?”

“Because, you – you’re – it’s just that...”

“I’m what? Free?” I dared him to say it - that I was
accident prone.

He hesitated. “Yeah. Free.” He didn’t look happy.

He didn’t trust me anymore. After all, hurricane Indigo blew
through and left disaster in her wake. But I’d prove to him those were just
flukes.

“All right,” said Simon. “Let’s move on with the meeting. I
don’t have much to report. Felicia confirmed the information we had on Stephen,
that he blamed Bart for his failures.”

Cappy went next. “I don’t have much to add, except that
Billy came into Butch’s today. He bought a couple of steaks and talked to Butch
about repairing the starter on his van.”

“Good,” said Simon. “That establishes a link between Butch –
still a suspect, I should add – and Billy, another suspect, in my book, even if
we don’t know yet how he’s connected. And Billy is also linked to Gerry
Puttock- he was in Puttock’s Pub when Cappy and Indigo made a delivery. We
still don’t know what they were arguing about.”

“This is getting confusing,” said Riley, frowning at the
investigation board.

Simon leaned over and read the board upside down. “It sure
is,” he agreed. “Look, why don’t you use a red pen to draw arrows to everyone
that Billy is linked with. And then do the same with everyone else, only with a
different color.” He watched as she drew the lines. “That’s better.”

“Now it looks like a roadmap.” Riley frowned. “But I suppose
it will all make sense at some point.” She smiled up at Simon. “Thanks.”

“Okay. We have four suspects,” said Badger. “Nat, Stephen,
Butch and Billy. And possibly a fifth – we need to find out what Gerry’s
connection is to Billy, and then perhaps more importantly, what the connection
is between Billy and Dad.”

“Right, so who’s next?” I asked. I had a trying day and
wanted nothing more than to adjourn this meeting so I could go home and get
cleaned up.

“Me,” said Riley. “I have updated police reports.” She passed
the reports for both Bart and Shelly to her left, and gave us a brief synopsis.
“Nothing can be substantiated. It’s mostly hearsay and opinions. We already
know or have found out most of the information on our own. Butch’s argument
with Dad was reported by both Mom and Butch. Butch implicated Gerry – he says
Gerry’s always been jealous of Dad because he used to have a thing for Mom.
Evidently they use to date before Dad came along.”

Riley cringed and I didn’t blame her. I don’t know what he
was like as a teenager, but as an adult, Gerry Puttock was pretty gross.

“And there’s your link,” said Simon, “between Bart and
Gerry. If Gerry is jealous because Bart stole Claire away, then that’s another
possible motive for murder - if it’s true.”

“But that was so long ago,” said Badger. “Why wait eighteen
years?”

“That’s what Gerry said,” added Riley. “He says as soon as
Dad came on the scene, mom had eyes for nobody else. But I’ll add it to the
board.” She shook her head. “Eventually all of this will have to make sense,
right?”

“Someone will ‘ave to pump Butch for more information on
that story,” said Cappy. “I’ll see if I can find out anything.”

“What about alibis?” I asked Riley.

“Nat was at home, Stephen was at Dicky Dan’s, Butch was at
work, as was Gerry,” she reported, looking at the board. “And Mom and Badger
were both home that morning. The other clients, Andy Hall, Felicia Bartlett and
Dexter Najeem have all been interviewed, and all have alibis.”

“And have they all been corroborated?” I asked.

Riley shrugged. “Somewhat, but too much time has passed and
memories start to fade. Neighbors confirm that Nat and Shelly argued – she
left, and he left shortly afterward for Puttock’s – a link by the way, between
Gerry and Nat.” She drew a green line between Nat and Gerry. “Gerry was busy
opening the pub and Butch made deliveries. Andy was working, corroborated by
his secretary. Dexter was out of town, and Felicia at home alone.”

“So any of them could have done it,” Simon put in, shaking
his head in frustration.

“We have to confirm their alibis,” said Badger. “Cappy, can
you look into Butch’s records? Check the delivery schedule. Find out if Butch
really was making deliveries. Make sure everyone got their deliveries that day
– look for any gaps in timing when Butch’s whereabouts can’t be confirmed.”

Cappy nodded. “Right-O.”

Badger looked through his notes. “The critical time period
is between eleven o’clock a.m. and when Mum spoke to Dad a few minutes before
twelve o’clock p.m. That’s the closest timeframe we can get.”  He thought for a
minute and then turned to Simon. “You know the waitress at Puttock’s, don’t
you?”

“Yes, the lovely Patricia,” said Simon, wiggling his
eyebrows.

Riley frowned. “You mean the bleached-blonde with the IQ of
candy floss?”

“That’s right,” Simon grinned. “Brains aren’t everything,
you know. Patricia has other attributes.”

She started to argue, but Badger broke in. “Focus, you two.
Simon, do you think you can get a look at the books for that day? See if you
can find any credit card receipts from Nat.”

I had to admit that Simon was girl-crazy, and didn’t get
serious about any one girl. He was afraid of getting hurt. After all, people
went so quickly in our lives.

“What if he paid in cash?” said Simon.

Badger sighed. “Then we probably won’t ever know for sure if
he was there or not. And confirm with Patricia who opened up that morning. Wait
a minute,” he snapped his fingers. “Check all receipts during that time period.
Even if Nat paid in cash, someone else who was there may remember him being
there.”

The serving girl gathered unseen pint glasses as she drifted
around the table, peering at the investigation board. She listened in
shamelessly to our meeting, taking in all the details of our case.

A ping sounded in the room and everyone began checking cell
phones and shaking their heads before replacing them in backpacks, messenger
bags or pockets. Riley worked the buttons on her cell phone quickly with both
thumbs and opened the new message. She was silent as she read, her face
becoming pale and still.

“They’ve found his car,” said the serving girl, standing
over Riley’s shoulder reading the text on the phone. For a seventeenth century
spirit, the girl was endlessly fascinated by modern technology. Of course
nobody heard her comment except me.