Givin' Up The Ghost (An Indigo Eady Paranormal Mystery) (6 page)

“There’s just one thing,” I said, interrupting, before this
went any further. Secrecy. And not only about the investigation. 

“Oh – yeah,” said Simon. “You can’t tell anyone about
Indigo. It has to be kept a secret. She’s taken the Mickey off people for it.”

Badger squirmed. He was one of those people. “I won’t tell
anyone.”

“Me neither,” said a voice from the door.

––––––––

W
e all looked toward the door in stunned silence.

A girl leaned against the doorjamb, arms crossed. She
surveyed us, mostly me, with clear interest.

“Riley. How much did you hear?” Badger asked.

“Enough. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” She dug through
her rucksack and handed Simon a stack of stapled papers. “Here.”

“It’s the police report! And it’s dated yesterday.” Simon
looked up at her and then back to Badger. He waved the stack of papers in the
air. “Where did you get this?”

“From a private source,” she answered, coming further into
the room. “The point is that I have it and you lot clearly need it. For all the
good it’ll do.” She snorted. “The cops still think dad ran away with Shelly and
now they’re looking for her as a person of interest. It’s ridiculous.”

We looked at Badger, uncertain, before looking back to
Riley. I met Badger’s sister only once. She was my age, but unlike me, her
brown hair was cut short and chic. Her jeans and blouse had more style than I
could ever muster, even on a good day. The stubborn look shining out of her
blue eyes stopped me and Simon from interfering in what was clearly a family
matter.

“I appreciate the police report, Riley, but you can’t get
involved in this,” began Badger, “it could be dangerous.” He had the same
stubborn look as Riley, only his eyes were a warm brown. Normally, anyway.
Right now, they were flat as snake eyes.

 “He was my father, too.” Riley snapped, legs planted
firmly, hands on hips.

Badger took in her fierce eyes, his own blazing daggers
right back at her. The moment grew uncomfortably long, something I was
realizing about Badger. He didn’t make decisions quickly. He chewed them over
first. Finally, he sighed. “Okay, but you’ll do as I say. I’m in charge of this
investigation.” He glared around at the lot of us, and we all quickly nodded in
agreement. “All right, then. Let’s read this report first. Then we’ll make a
plan.”

“Actually,” I said, hesitating to contradict him so early in
the investigation, “why don’t you take me over to your place first –I’d like to
look at your dad’s things before the police arrive,” I said to Badger. I
slipped into my Navy-blue pea coat and grabbed my beanie and scarf. “Simon can
read the report while we’re gone.” I turned to Riley. “I’m assuming you’ve
already read it?”

“Yes, and I have to get back to work,” she said. “I’m off in
thirty, so I’ll catch up with you then.” Like Badger and Simon, she worked at
the Blind Badger. She turned and left without a backward glance, but not before
I glimpsed the tears swimming in her eyes.

To the left was the family room, with a bay window
overlooking the market square; to the right was the kitchen, small, but bright
and cozy. Family photographs lined the walls. Bart with a gap-toothed Badger
grinning for the camera. Bart kissing Claire on the lips while the kids made
monkey faces in mock disgust. Riley posing regally, surrounded by little
brothers Harry and Henry. We passed and went straight down the hall to the
study.

“This is...was, my dad’s home office. He worked from here
part of the time and at Shoreline Construction part of the time. He had an
office there as well.”

“What did your dad do, exactly? I asked.

“He worked as a freelance Environmental Engineer for the
county of Sabrina Shores, studying the environment and reporting the possible
impact a project might have on the area. Shoreline paid him as a consultant to
work with them to get project approvals from the county.

“And did Shelly work from here, too?”

“Sometimes, but mostly she worked from Shoreline. She only
worked part time for my dad, and then part time for a charity called the
Minority Ethics Committee.” He turned the doorknob and slowly pushed the door
inward, waiting for me to precede him.

I hesitated inside the doorway, trying to get an impression
of Bart and the room he must have spent a fair amount of time working. It held
the musty stillness and silence of disuse. A thin layer of dust blanketed the
room, dust motes floating through the weak sunlight. I stepped over the
threshold.

In one corner, a lamp on an end table next to a
comfy-looking armchair formed a reading area in front of a fireplace.

A large, scarred oak desk with a small lamp faced the door.
Scattered papers and various reports littered the desktop. The usual office paraphernalia.
A tottering stack of books sat on the floor next to the desk.

The many bookshelves, stuffed to overflowing with trade
books and scrapbooks, had yellowed edges of clipped newspaper articles peeking
out the sides haphazardly. I walked over to the shelf and plucked out one of
the scrapbooks. Opening it, I ran my finger down one of the articles. The base
of my skull began to tingle. I snapped the book shut and went over to the desk,
moving things aside and looking under everything. I didn’t know exactly what I
was looking for, but I’d know it when I found it.

“Where’s his latest scrapbook?” I asked Badger. We began to
look on the shelves and in desk drawers.

My eyes drifted to the far corner where a drafting table
sat. A file folder balanced precariously on top of it, newspaper articles
bulging out. I moved to the table and lifted the folder, blowing it off before
opening it.

“Here it is,” I said. “Do you happen to know what your dad
was working on?”

“No, but he always had a few things going on at the same
time. Is it important?” He stood behind me, looking over my shoulder as I
flipped through the folder.

“I don’t know,” I answered. “But I think we should copy
these, before the police take them for evidence.” I closed the folder, brushing
more of the dust from the cover.

“You think they will? I mean take that as evidence? But
why?”

“I don’t know why, but I’m pretty sure they’re going to take
these. We need to look at everything they’ll be looking at.”

Directly above the drafting table hung a large corkboard,
crammed with photographs of construction sites in various phases of completion.
To the right of that on the opposing wall was another corkboard full of other
photographs of people at various events and occasions.

Badger watched closely as I ran my fingers over the
photographs. Stopping on a photo of a young Indian couple, a sharp intake of
breath erupted behind me.

“Who are these people?” I asked, unpinning the photo and
holding it out to him.

He took the photo. “Shelly and Nat, my dad’s secretary and
her fiancé. She disappeared at the same time as my dad. It had people talking.”
He looked at me questioningly. “Are you getting anything from this photo?”

 “I was drawn to it, certainly.” I took the photo back and
put it in the folder. “It may be something, or it may mean nothing. It may be
that she disappeared at the same time. I don’t know for sure. But
him
,”
I waved the photo of Nat and Shelly, “I feel something not quite right about
him.”

I turned back to the corkboard and took down a few more
photos and inserted them into the folder as well.

I carried the folder over to the desk. Under a bunch of
papers was Bart’s calendar. After flipping through a few pages, I put it in the
folder as well. I made one more turn of the room and then looked to Badger.

“We’d better copy these first, and put them back as soon as
possible. There’s that place down around the corner – The Copy Corral. With
both of us, it shouldn’t take long. I’ll let Simon know what we’re doing.” I
pulled my cell phone out and hit speed dial.

By the time we arrived back at the snug, Simon and Riley had
already started a suspect list based on the people questioned in the police
report. I laid the bulging folder of copies on the table and took off my coat.
I sniffed the air and looked around, spying a small table in the corner with a
half-full pot of coffee.

“Awesome!” I walked over to pour a cup. “Thanks,” I said to
Riley, with such a profound look of gratitude that it made everyone smile.

Simon held the list of suspects he and Riley had come up
with so far, while I pulled the copied photographs out of the folder.

I handed the photos over to Badger. “First, who are all
these people?” He took the photos and started naming the individuals, “Andy
Hall...”

“Check,” said Simon, making a mark on the murder board.

“Butch Stolerman.”

“Check,” said Simon again.

“Gerald Puttock.”

“Check.” Simon made another checkmark. 

“Nat Pradeep and Shelly Patil,” Badger finished.

“Check and check,” said Simon, making two more checkmarks. 

They turned as one to look at me, like I was a particularly
interesting specimen in a jar, maybe something with two heads.

“That’s amazing,” said Badger. “You picked out a photo for
every suspect on the list, before we even
had
a list.”

“Yeah, sometimes I get lucky like that.” I lowered my head
to hide cheeks warming into a blush. Finally, I wasn’t making a fool of myself.
I hadn’t run over Badger all day. But the best thing about all this was they
weren’t ridiculing me, or looking at me fearfully, or treating me like an
escaped mental case. Or chanting,
witch, witch, witch
, and calling for
my head on the gallows, which had happened to me at school a few years ago.
People were afraid of what they didn’t understand.

I cleared my throat. “Right – let’s talk about what’s
missing. I didn’t see a laptop in his office, and presumably he had a cell
phone. Do you have them?” I looked from Badger to Riley.

“No, they’re both missing,” Badger answered.

“Cell phone records?” I asked, hopefully.

“It’s a business mobile provided by Shoreline Construction
as part of his consulting contract,” Riley answered. “The records are not
available to us due to privacy laws...but I’m working on it.”

Badger eyed his sister thoughtfully. That made twice that
day she had surprised us. I was pretty sure we didn’t want to know where she
got her information. Sort of like, what we didn’t know wouldn’t hurt us. Still,
the potential possibilities made me squirm.

“Okay,” I said, “what about the camera? There are a great
deal of photos, both of family and friends and construction sites in his home
office.”

Badger and Riley looked at each other and shook their heads.

“Another item for the missing list,” said Simon. All the
while he wrote notes on the investigation board, and taped photos above the
suspect’s names. He wrote the word ‘camera’ in the corner with a question mark
next to it. “Now, how are these people connected to your dad? I know that
Shelly was his secretary and Nat her fiancé,” he said, scribbling. “And of
course Gerald Puttock owns the pub around the corner, and let’s see...Butch is
the butcher next door, and so, hmmm.” He was mostly talking to himself. “Andy
Hall is that developer he sometimes works for. Got it!” He looked up with a
self-satisfied grin.

We discussed Claire’s birthday party at the pub the night
before Bart’s disappearance, and added a separate list of attendees to the
investigation board. Obviously, some of the names were duplicated. That was
bound to happen with a close community and long-time friends. Badger worked the
open bar the night of the party and hadn’t observed anything unusual. Riley was
at home babysitting their little brothers, Henry and Harry. Simon, feeling that
every piece of information was important, recorded these facts on the
investigation board.

I stared down at the board, thinking we had a pretty good
start.

“I hate to bring this up.” Badger frowned down at the board.
“But have you noticed a pattern?”

I studied the board. Nothing sprang out at me.

Badger looked up with a frown. “All of our suspects are
friends.”