Givin' Up The Ghost (An Indigo Eady Paranormal Mystery) (15 page)

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“H
e’s following me, not for the first time.” I turned back
into the room. “Let’s go out the back.” I slipped into my jacket and grabbed my
purse from under the desk. Padma did the same, watching me closely. I wasn’t
sure she trusted me.

“We’ll only have a few minutes once we turn out the lights,”
I said. “Once he discovers we haven’t come out, he might come up looking for
me. I don’t think he realizes I know what he looks like.”

Padma nodded her understanding. If this man was involved in
the murder of her friend, she didn’t want to meet him any more than I did.

“Shouldn’t we call the police?” asked Padma.

“No.” My heart fluttered in case she insisted. “Our
investigation is a no police zone.” I turned to her. “Look, the police have
botched this investigation from the beginning. You could drive a semi through
the clues they’ve missed or chose to ignore. Bringing the police in now would
slow us down.”

Padma was silent for a moment, before nodding.

I pulled my cell phone from my purse and speed-dialed Simon’s
number. When he didn’t answer, I dialed Badger, who also didn’t answer. It was
rather annoying since I could have used either of them right about then. I left
a message for Badger, asking him to meet us near the courtyard exit. It was the
best I could do.

I switched off the lights and turned the lock.

I grabbed Padma by the arm. “Let’s go.” We hurried through
the dark office to the back exit, Padma locking the door behind us.

Padma hadn’t exaggerated about the deteriorating condition
of the emergency exit. Not a real emergency exit at all, but a door belonging
to the bygone era of the dilapidated courtyard below. It looked like a jungle
down there, with the overgrown grass and trees hiding who knows what kind of
creatures in the undergrowth. The safety railing, where it existed, dangled
down like vines over the precarious ledge of the narrow balcony, which ran the
length of the building.

I took a deep breath before starting out, hoping we wouldn’t
have to swing like Tarzan, er, Jane.

We edged our way in the darkness along the second floor
balcony hugging the peeling wall, trying not to get too close to the eroding
edge. “There’s another stairwell down at the end,” Padma whispered. “It will
take us one street over.”

I nodded, even though Padma couldn’t see.

We circled to the left and were crossing over the alley when
the ledge started to give way. Padma’s scream ripped through the air as we
clung to anything we could grasp, for all the good it did.

We cascaded along like a waterfall with the concrete debris
and rubble, and tumbled down into the courtyard. A thick cloud of dust rose
around us like a sudden fog.

I laid half beneath the debris, struggling to breathe
through the thick powdery grime. Shouting and running footsteps echoed through
the dark, the reverberation sounding as if we had started a stampede. But how
could that be? Nobody knew we were here, except for Billy.

The thought of Billy propelled me into action. Trying out my
buried limbs, the movement shifted the debris. The shouting became faint,
drifting further down the alley, heading away from us...

So I seriously had a heart attack when a pair of hands
reached for me. And then I made out Cappy’s features above me, arms pulling me
from the rubble. Little dude was strong for such a scrawny thing.

“Indigo!” he yelled. “Are you all right?” His worried face
peered at me through a cloud of plaster dust.

“I’m okay. Where’s Padma?” I dry-choked the words through
grimy lips and tried to stand on wobbly legs.

“I’m here,” said a voice through the darkness. “I’m okay, I
think. A few scratches.” She limped over brushing herself off, for all the good
it did. Covered with a fine, white coating, she made a ghostly appearance.
Looking down at my dirty and ripped clothing, I looked the same.

“Over here!” said Cappy. He dragged me by the arm as debris
continued to trickle down around us. He moved lightly on his feet, like a cat
slinking through the jungle, leading us through the darkness. I couldn’t see
much of anything, what with my eyes caked with plaster dust. We came to the
stairwell we were headed toward when the balcony gave way, only now we were on
ground level.

We halted when we approached the lighted area where the
passage met the street beyond. Cappy peered out both ways and appeared
satisfied we were now safe.

He pulled a cell phone from his pocket and dialed a number.
“I’ve got them.” He spoke low into the phone, giving my appearance the
once-over.

Staying in the shadows, Padma and I leaned against the wall
in the alleyway. I blinked rapidly trying to remove the stinging grime from my
eyes, which watered and forged tear tracks down my cheeks. I coughed and
hacked, trying to eject the dust from my lungs like a coalminer. I even spit
like a camel. Okay, not as good as that, but more discreetly.

“Yeah, she’s all right. They’re both all right. Okay.” Cappy
disconnected and sent a text message before snapping the phone shut and
replacing it in his pocket.

“What are you doing here, Cappy?” I was still confused.
“Oh.” I realized I already had the answer. “It’s your day to watch Billy. But
what was all that shouting? Who else is here?” I peered through the darkness,
but couldn’t see anyone or hear the voices anymore.

“Badger and Simon chased Billy into the north end, so we’re
safe for now,” he answered. “I called Badger as soon as I marked Billy watching
you through the window.”

Which is why neither answered their cell phones. They
couldn’t hear the ring over the noise of the motorcycle.

Cappy explained that Badger and Simon arrived as Billy
circled around to the alley and the balcony began to collapse. Badger and Simon
had entered from the alley at the opposite end of the courtyard and chased
Billy, disappearing through the dark labyrinth of winding streets.

“Come on,” said Cappy. We hurried down a corridor toward the
street, where Badger left his motorbike. 

Cappy eyed me, shaking his head. I had a cut below my right
eye, and a bloody knee peeked through my ripped tights. My frilly pink blouse
was now mostly gray and would have to be tossed.

Padma had not fared much better. Big brown eyes shone out of
her white face, her long brown hair now gray. Dressed in black and white as she
was, she looked like a sepia-toned photo of a ghostly presence. 

We received curious looks from a group that crossed the
street pretty quickly after seeing us emerge from the alley.

“I’m going home,” said Padma, turning to me. “I’m sorry. I
have nothing else to say. And clearly you need to stop this.
Now.”
She
was emphatic. “Before someone else ends up dead.” She walked to the corner
where she raised her arm and hailed a cab.

Her words echoed ominously in my ears.

I followed Cappy down the pavement to Badger’s motorcycle,
the key still in the ignition.

I sighed, my shoulders drooping. This turn of events wasn’t
doing much to boost my mood. “Seriously? I’m supposed to get on the back of
that beast after what I’ve just been through?” I employed a few choice swear
words under my breath and then apologized profusely. I wouldn’t want to insult
the vehicular animal that was supposed to be getting me home safely.

“Sorry, Princess,” Cappy said, with a
so-not-sorry
grin. “But damsels in distress can’t be choosey. Be ‘appy you’re not Rapunzel
and hop on.” He kick-started the monster like a pro, though. 

Shaking my head, I swung my battered leg over the seat,
grimacing at the pain.

“Don’t people around here ever drive cars?” I muttered
grumpily. Resigned, I squeezed my eyes shut tight. Once again I wore the beat
up crash helmet. But I was grateful for it, truly, because I was certain that
Cappy couldn’t possibly have a license to drive this thing. 

Riley flung open the back door of our kitchen, frantic at
the sight of me. I looked as if I had been through a war zone, and had barely
escaped intact.

“Thank God you’re here!” Riley dragged me in by the arm and
shoved me into a kitchen chair. Cappy hovered. “What the bloody hell happened?”
She pulled items from the rucksack. Clean rags, antiseptic cream, rubbing
alcohol and bandages all landed on the table.

“Look at you.” Riley muttered under her breath. She washed
my face and cleaned the cut beneath my eye.

“Ow.” I sucked in my breath. “What are you doing here,
anyway?”

“Cappy texted me, told me to come quick with a first aid
kit. He said you were hurt.” She continued dabbing at my wounds. “God, Indigo,
what the hell happened? You scared the life out of me!”

By way of answer, I asked, “Where’s Uncle Richard?” I was
fearful I might have to explain myself looking like a prisoner of war.

“It’s that monthly business owner’s dinner, remember? My
mum’s there, too. Don’t worry, it always runs late.”

And so I explained, with Cappy filling in his part.

I sprung up like a jack-in-the-box when the door crashed
open and banged into the wall, sending my chair flying backward.

Riley’s cloth flew out of her hand.

Cleo arched and hissed. Her multicolored eyes flashed in
fright and she bared sharp fangs at the intruders before zipping through the
kitchen door.

Simon and Badger rushed in, gasping for breath, but
otherwise looking quite all right. No cuts or bruises.

Cappy, having swung around from the fireplace, poker in
hand, shouted. “Bloody ‘ell! Try to give a guy a ‘eart attack, why doncha!”

“Lock the door!” I shouted. “You freakin’ scared the life
out of us.” The hand on my chest willed my heart to beat again.

“Sorry,” said Simon. “We were so worried – we had to make
sure you made it home all right.” He turned the deadbolt and drew the curtains.

“‘Course she made it ‘ome!” said Cappy, offended. “Dint’ I
say I’d get ‘er here?!” He threw Badger his motorcycle key, muttering, “What
does it take before a guy gets trusted ‘round ‘ere?”

“Sorry, mate,” said Simon, clapping him on the back. “Of
course we trust you. Thank you for getting Indigo home safely.”

I righted my chair and sat back down at the table. Cappy had
gotten the fire going behind us, and the warmth spread into the room.

Badger kept staring at me. I was banged up to be sure, but
he was looking at me rather strangely.

“What?” I said.

He shrugged. “You look different somehow.”

“Oh, you mean the grunge look? That’s what happens when
you’re involved in a collapse.” I couldn’t stop the sarcasm. Not after what I
had been through. “A lot to go through just for the look, but hey, totally
worth it.”

The group was silent, truly a rare event.

Like a specimen under a microscope, I squirmed. “Yeah, well,
it was part of the costume.” I looked down at my torn and filthy blouse, my
formerly pink bra strap peeking out. “I dressed up to meet Padma.”

“Hey,” Simon blurted. “Isn’t that the pink bra I saw
floating down the hall this morning?”

“As it happens, yes,” I said, blushing furiously through the
grunge. “A busybody spirit said I should wear it to enhance...”

They all stared at me.

“What?! Can we
not talk
about my bra right now?”

“Sorry,” said Simon. “There are an awful lot of strange
happenings in this house since you came, I’m not gonna lie.”

––––––––

T
he pinging of Riley’s cell phone saved me from having to
discuss the details of the floating pink bra. She dug the phone out of her
rucksack and expertly retrieved the message while we waited.

She went mannequin-still, stiff and blank. And then looked
up.

“Billy’s dead.”

Sudden silence filled the room, loud in the absence of
sound. Nobody spoke, too shocked and scared. All eyes turned to Badger and
Simon. Not accusatory, but I was sure it seemed that way.

“Exactly what happened out there?” I asked.

Badger pounded the table with both fists and jumped up,
ready to defend himself. “We chased him into the north end and lost him,” he
bellowed. “He knew the area, he gave us the slip. What do you think?”

“You can’t possibly think...” Simon began.

“No, of course not.” I shook my head. “I’m not accusing you
of anything.” I looked up at Badger. “Either of you. But you must know how this
looks. Did anyone see you?” I looked back and forth between them, waiting for
someone to answer.

The implication suddenly dawned on them. They were now
suspects. If anyone had seen them chasing Billy, then they could be in a whole
lot of serious trouble. And Cappy was an accessory, maybe even me. All of us
were in the area, except for Riley.

“Bloody hell.”
Simon turned pale as me.

I turned to Riley. “Do we know how he died? Are there any
witnesses, any suspects?”

She re-checked the message on her phone. “He was found
tangled in brush by the side of the Sabrina by a couple walking their dog at
around,” she scrolled down, “eleven o’clock tonight. His head was bashed in.”

The significance of how Billy died was not lost on any of
us. He died the same way Bart did.

“That’s all?” asked Cappy. “No witnesses or nothin’?”

“No,” said Riley, “but it’s early yet. I’ll probably know
more tomorrow.” She replaced her phone in her rucksack.

“How did you...?” Simon started to ask what we had all been
wondering for quite some time.
How did she have access to official
information?
But the deadly glare she shot at him stopped him.

“At least now we know one thing,” I said, looking around the
table. “Billy wasn’t our killer...but he must have known who was.”

“Yeah,” said Simon, getting up to pour more coffee. He
dumped several spoonfuls of sugar and filled half his mug with milk and stirred
loudly. He sat back down at the table before continuing. “And Billy must have
reported what happened tonight to the killer.”

“And,” said Cappy. “Even if ‘e didn’t know before, Billy
must ‘ave realized who the killer was once ‘e got busted with the car.”

“And what if he was blackmailing the killer?” I added,
thinking through the implication out loud. “Then the killer had to get rid of
him – he was becoming a liability, a risk.”

“The killer knows we’re asking questions,” Cappy put in. “So
‘e must be getting nervous.”

Riley frowned. “And now that there’s one more body, and the
four of you might be implicated, things have gotten more complicated.”

“Not to mention risky. A killer knows we’re investigating,”
I said. “With two people dead now, probably three, he has nothing left to lose
– any one of us could be next.” We sat in silence for a few minutes, each lost
in our own thoughts.

I glanced at Badger. He had calmed down. Way down. He
stopped participating in the conversation. His face was devoid of emotion, a
blank slate. It filled me with dread. And for good reason, I soon discovered.

“We’re done,” he said. “It’s too dangerous.

Everyone began protesting at once, me the loudest.

I leapt to my feet, pleading. “Badger, we can’t stop now.
Not when we’re so close.” I looked down at the top of Simon’s head. Didn’t
Badger see how important this was to him? To all of us?

“Look,” said Badger, ticking off points on his fingers.
“First Billy gets busted yesterday with Dad’s car. Then he gets busted
following Indigo. Indigo practically gets killed. And then we chase him and he
ends up dead.” He stood up, shaking his head. “We’re done.” Like a dictator,
the topic was not open for discussion or debate.

“This is because of me, isn’t it?” Our eyes locked. “Because
I keep blowing it. Because I’m a klutz and keep getting hurt.” My eyes swam
with tears, begging him to deny it.

He avoided the question. “We’re getting nowhere! Can’t you
see? We’ve gotten no further than the police.” Now he was pleading with me.
Nobody else in the room existed but us. “We’re suspecting friends and
neighbors. You’re always getting hurt. Who’s next? Riley? Simon or Cappy?” He
ran frustrated fingers through his unruly hair.

I took several steps toward him. “Badger,
please
.”

“No! It’s over,” he shouted. “Don’t you understand?”

“No, I don’t understand. You’re going to have to spell it
out for me.” I managed to choke out the words even though my throat constricted
with unshed tears.

“Everything you do...” He paced the room. “You knock me to
the ground, throw coffee on me, barf all over my shoes.
Bloody hell
,
what’s not to understand? You’re a walking disaster!”

I hadn’t left him any choice but to say it, but hearing it
out loud still hurt.

Simon, Cappy and Riley all jumped to their feet, protesting
his harsh words.

“No,” I said. “It’s all right...he’s right. I am a disaster.
If you’ll all excuse me...” I ran for the back stairs before I made a further
fool of myself by bursting into tears. Raised voices trailed behind me, but
Badger’s words went with me, haunting me, a hurt that I couldn’t outrun.
You’re
a walking disaster
. And now the investigation was over because of me. I let
them all down. Simon, Badger, Riley. Bart. But mostly myself.

And Badger believed I was a disaster.

I struggled to swim up to the surface of the troubled sleep
I finally achieved. An incessant knocking kept disturbing my lack-of-sleep
induced coma.

“Simon,” I mumbled, without opening my eyes, trying to stay
asleep. “Get the door.” I pulled the blanket up to my chin and re-adjusted my
position in the armchair. I wasn’t the least bit interested in who was at the
door. I wanted to hibernate for a couple of months and come back renewed,
possibly in spring. 

Last night I had gone back down to the kitchen when everyone
had gone. Puffy eyed and bruised, I curled into my armchair. Simon and I sat
silent for hours, staring into the fire. He tried to assure me that Badger had
been wrong, but he may as well have been talking through a soup-can telephone,
his voice tinny and indecipherable. 

The pounding still continued. With a frustrated sigh, I
gathered my blanket around me and stumbled to the back door. Peeking through
the curtains, I didn’t see anyone. And the knocking still continued.

I turned back into the room. Simon still slept in his chair,
Cleo curled in his lap. The loud knocking did not bother him in the least. I
tamped down the uncharitable thoughts I was having about my dear cousin when I
glimpsed the kitchen door to the living room vibrating and finally became
conscious that the knocking came from the other side. I walked slowly to the
door and stopped, listening. 

“Who’s there?” I whispered, pressing my ear to the door.

“There you are dear,” said a kindly voice from the other
side. “You’re terribly hard to wake - I’ve been pounding for
hours
.”

Franny.

With the herbal sachets above the door jamb, she couldn’t
enter the kitchen. So she banged instead.

I pushed against the door and stepped into the hall.

“
Hours?
” I said. “
Seriously?
”

“Well, not quite that long,” said Franny, contrite. “But
I’ve been terribly worried, dear. Word is, you had an accident last night and I
had to see for myself you were all right.”

She wore a modest morning dress, her coal-black hair
cascading down her back. She held a delicately monogrammed handkerchief in her
hand and dabbed her nose with it.

I wondered at the human traits of ghosts that they still
retained after death. Did ghosts honestly have runny noses?

Okay. Focus.

“I’m fine. A small mishap with a balcony collaps...
hang
on
. How did you know?” Now I was suspicious. I narrowed my eyes at her.
“Were you eavesdropping?”  

“Well, I, I...I do live here, don’t I?” she asked
indignantly. “And for your information I wasn’t eavesdropping on you. Others
were speaking about it this morning and I happened to overhear.” She sniffed
and dabbed her nose again.

“Oh.”
Others
were the main reason I slept in the
kitchen.

“And I came straight here.”

“Thank you, Franny. I’m fine. Truly.”

She searched my face. “You look like a shipwreck, if you
don’t mind my saying so, dear.”

The cut under my eye had turned a nice shade of black and
blue, and my eyes were swollen. Probably more from crying half the night than
the accident. I had other scratches, too. Franny couldn’t see the damage to my
arms or legs.

She looked at me suspiciously. “What are you kids up to
anyway?” Her eyes narrowed.

I had to remember that Franny was once a madam and no doubt
used to the dangers of this world. The nineteenth-century’s equivalent of
street-smart.

I vowed to google Franny Bishop, nineteenth century madam,
when I had time. I reminded myself that I now had loads of time, since Badger
called off the investigation.

Shaking myself from my reverie, I countered with, “What do
you know about any of this, Franny?”

She turned and drifted down the hall, her long hair swaying.

I recognized the delaying tactic. She was measuring her
words, wondering how much to say.

When she turned back, she looked resolved. “You’re in over
your heads, that’s what I know!” She took a defiant stance. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean murder and mayhem and kids who don’t know what
they’re getting into!” She looked scared, her form fading in and out in
distress. The effort to continue communicating while upset was draining her
energy. “If you’re not careful, you could end up dead!”

I shivered. The hall was cold, and every time Franny drifted
by my breath turned misty. “What have you heard, Franny?”

Not that it mattered, because the investigation was over.
But Franny clearly had something to get off her ample chest.