Givin' Up The Ghost (An Indigo Eady Paranormal Mystery) (7 page)

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W
e stared at each other, slightly in shock.

“Well, they do say that it’s always someone you know,” said
Simon philosophically.

“Yeah,” said Badger, tapping the board. “But these people? I
can’t imagine it.” He shook his head.

“It could still be someone you don’t know,” I said to Badger
and Riley. “This,” I pointed to the board. “This is just a beginning. We’ll be
adding to it.”

“Yes,” said Riley, “that’s true. But I think we should
prepare ourselves anyway.” She began gathering the empty glasses on a tray. “I
mean, who would’ve imagined anyone would have had a reason to kill dad? I don’t
trust anyone anymore.”

“She’s right. We need to keep an open mind,” said Simon. “We
can’t cross someone off the list because we’ve known them a long time.”

We all agreed.

Simon and Riley worked on Tuesday evenings, so Badger and I
went to see Nat. We took a shortcut through the park and crossed the Sabrina
River using the footbridge, the fastest way to Nat’s flat.

Cold, gray and misty, I bundled into my pea coat and boots,
topped with hat and scarf. I eyed Badger, who was pretty much dressed the same.
Note to self:
learn how to dress like a girl, girlfriend.

When we arrived at Nat’s apartment on River Bridge Street, a
few minutes of fumbling took place on the other side of the door before he
opened it. Without saying a word, he left the door open and walked back into
his flat. Glancing warily at each other, we shrugged and followed him inside.
Not much of a greeting, but this wasn’t a social call.

Everything in the tiny flat could be taken in at a glance.
Every surface was covered with...
stuff
. Lots of
stuff
. Nothing
appeared to have its own place. Nat poured himself a drink from a half empty
whiskey bottle, half-heartedly offering us a drink, which we both declined.
Neither of us drank, but even if we did, by the looks of his glass it hadn’t
been washed in months. I tried not to breathe in too deeply, because the dude’s
place was rank with stale alcohol, rotting garbage and unwashed body odor.

Nat was average height and extremely thin. His sharp
shoulder-blades slumped inward. The whites of his large brown eyes were
jaundice-yellow, and sunk deep into his skull with protruding cheekbones. Of
Indian descent, he was naturally dark-skinned, which no doubt kept him from the
sickly pallor that could be sensed beneath the surface. Nat was a sick man. The
room in which we found ourselves reflected that underlying sickness.

The whole place gave me the creeps. Nat shoved clothing,
newspapers and candy wrappers off the tattered sofa and chair, tucking an
unfinished bottle of whiskey beneath the chair cushion, before indicating that
we should sit down. I sat on the edge of my chair, trying not to touch more
than I had to.

He never did invite us to remove our dripping jackets.

“So what can I do for you?” he asked Badger, sinking into
his chair with a backward rock. Half drunk already, he must have started
downing the booze as soon as he arrived home.

“You’ve probably heard they found my dad’s body?”

Nat nodded, hiding his face in his glass and taking a sip.

“So I’m wondering if you’ve had word from Shelly,” he added.
The room turned a few degrees colder, if that was possible. I shivered.

“No,” said Nat, slurring. “She ran away with
him
,” he
answered, gesturing with his glass and sloshing whiskey onto the greasy carpet.

“How do you know?” asked Badger. “I mean, do you have any
proof?”

And then the explosion. “
Proof?
” he said. “I don’t
need any
proof
, other than what I can feel with my own gut!” He thumped
his stomach, becoming more agitated by the minute. “They were always huddled
together telling their secrets, weren’t they? Every time he called, she’d go
running.” He patted his shirt pocket and pulled out a crushed pack of
cigarettes. He lit one with shaky hands and blew out a long stream of smoke
toward the ceiling. “At your mums party they were wedged together in the corner
all night, whispering who knows what.” He was so silent for a moment that I
started to think he forgot about us. But then he continued. “We had a huge row
about it after. And what did she do?” he spat, spittle flying from his mouth.
“As soon as he called she ran off to him. And I haven’t seen her since.” He
took another drag from his cigarette and flicked the ashes on the floor,
landing atop scattered newspapers. We had to get out of there before dude
started a fire.

I think Badger figured he listened to enough of the vitriol.
He stood up and prepared to leave, with me right behind him.

“Thank you for your time,” said Badger, extending his hand
for a handshake. Nat struggled out of the chair and shook his hand. I hadn’t
said a word during the interview, but I politely held out my hand, too.

“Nice to meet you,” I said. Nat scowled but took my hand
reluctantly. He clearly didn’t think much of women, which was verified in the
next moment when our hands met. The instantaneous vision lasted while our hands
were still joined, and rolled like a fast-forward scene in a movie.
Nat
shook Shelly by both arms and yelled into her face. Crying, Shelly tried to get
away, but Nat held her tightly, his fingers digging small divots into her arms.

I gasped when Nat pulled his hand back. The palm of my hand
burned something fierce. I shoved it, throbbing, into my coat pocket. A look of
concern crossed Badger’s face. I tried to grin, but I’m sure it came out more
like a grimace.

Badger took my elbow and led me down the street, holding our
tongues until we were well away from that foul little hell-hole.

“Hey,” he said. “Are you all right? What happened in there?”

I sighed. How would I explain this?

“I, um, sometimes get visions through touching. It’s called
Psychometry – reading the energy of objects or people through touch. When I
shook hands with Nat, I had a vision of him shaking Shelly, pretty violently.”

Badger looked at me like I had a third eye in the middle of
my forehead.

“The violence manifested itself by burning my hand.” I
pulled my trembling hand out of my pocket, palm skyward. Tiny blisters bubbled
up, bright, red and angry.

Badger gently lifted the back of my hand to peer closer at
my palm. Both hands were scarred from past energy surges, much like the one I
experienced with Nat, and I tugged them back, embarrassed.

“Blimey!” he exclaimed, shocked at the sight. “Come on.” He
grabbed my elbow. “We need to get something on those blisters.”

A smile tugged at my lips at the “
blimey
” word. It
was so foreign and cute coming from him.
Focus, Indigo
.

His concern touched me, but I shook my head. “No need. It
will be gone in a few days. I can take care of it.” I had to downplay it if I
didn’t want him to continue thinking that I was hazardous to his health.

He eyed my pale face disbelievingly, but we continued
walking along the dark street in silence.

Tension, like a third entity, walked between us.

“What is it?” I asked. Maybe he already regretted getting
involved with me – I mean
the investigation
.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean for you to get hurt. We
should probably call this whole thing off. It’s not your problem, after all. I
don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

“No!” I exclaimed, tugging on his sleeve, forcing him to
stop. “We need...we want to do this, Simon and me.” I began walking and he
followed. I sensed he had questions after that outburst, but I didn’t want to
talk about it right then.

“How about you,” I said, touching his arm lightly. “Are you
okay?”

He laughed flatly. “If you call hearing your dad is a
cheater more than once, then yeah, I’m brilliant.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...”

“I know. It’s okay,” he interrupted. “I’m learning to grow
thick skin, but I’m not quite there yet. It’s not every day your dad gets
murdered.”

No, it’s not.
The authorities ruled my dad’s death a
suicide, but I knew better. Like Bart, he had been murdered. But I hadn’t told
anyone yet, not even Simon.

Badger sighed. “Sorry, I’m just tired. It’s been hard with
my dad gone, trying to help mum with the kids, running the pub and-” He looked
at me apologetically. “Listen to me, rambling on.”

“That’s okay. I know it’s hard.”

“You do know, don’t you? I forget you just lost your dad as
well. I’m sorry for that, if I haven’t told you.”

“Thanks. And me, too. I’m sorry about your dad.” I wasn’t
ready to speak about my father yet, so a change of subject was in order. “Look
Badger, I know it looks bad, and as far as I’m concerned, Nat goes to the top
of the suspect list. But being an abusive, jealous boyfriend doesn’t make him a
murderer.” 

Badger nodded in reluctant agreement as we headed back
through the park. The steely-gray night filled with mist lifting off the river.
Fog floated thickly in the air. At least the rain had finally taken a break.
Sane people stayed inside in this kind of weather. I never actually claimed to
be sane, only that I wasn’t
insane
. There’s a difference.

We walked through the lamp-lit park, along a meandering
pathway. The illuminating yellow glow cast halos on the wet pavement. Halfway
through the park a tingling started on the back of my skull.

I took a deep breath. “Badger, don’t turn around, but I
think we’re being followed,” I whispered.

He glanced my way. “How do you know, did you see someone?”

“Nope.” I shrugged. “Just one of those crazy feelings I
get.” I waited for him to laugh or make fun. He didn’t.

“Okay.” He linked his arm through mine. “Do you trust me?”

I surprised myself by nodding.

“Then follow my lead, okay?”

He took hold of my good hand and I came to a stop, facing
him under the halo of a lamp. He put his arms around me. “We’re just a pair of
young lovers out for a walk, right?”

Quick to understand the game plan, I put my hands on his
chest and looked up into his face. “Right. Now what?” I stepped closer and
wrapped my arms around his neck. I was on the verge of hyperventilating.

“I’m going to kiss you.” Before I could protest, I mean if I
wanted
to, he leaned in for the kiss, turning me slightly, sweeping his
eyes across the park toward the direction we had come from. His lips were firm,
but soft against mine. He lifted his head and looked down into my face. Did I
mention he was tall?

“Well?” I whispered, slightly breathless.

“Nice.
Very
nice.” He smiled.

I laughed softly. The darkness, my friend for a change, hid
my warm cheeks. “Thanks. But I meant...”

“Oh! Right. Two men. Near the entrance. And doing a pretty
poor job of hiding behind a tree.”

I laid my head against his chest so I could peek down the
path. “It’s starting to rain again. If I’m not mistaken, it’s about to pour
buckets. We can give them the slip by pretending to run from the rain.” 

“Yeah, we could,” he whispered. “But that would take all the
fun out of what we’re doing now.”

He was flirting with me.
Me!
I laughed again lightly.
Given the situation, his heartbeat should have been rapid, erratic. Instead, it
beat steady and reassuring beneath my palms.

“Seriously, though.” I looked up into his face.

“What color are your eyes?” he asked.

If eyes are the gateway to the soul, he was staring straight
at mine.

“Focus,” I reminded him.

“Oh. Right. Running it is, then.”

“Do you think you can keep up?” I teased.

“That sounds like a challenge.” 

I grinned up at him and hoped he couldn’t read the
expression underneath. That had been my first kiss. Okay, not a
real
kiss, but for a fake one, it was
really
good.

A crack of thunder followed by lightning and then torrential
rain came right on cue. I pushed against Badger’s chest and took a few steps
back, turning with a playful swagger, and a catch-me-if-you-can smile thrown
back over my shoulder. I threw my long braid of wet hair back and crooked a
finger at him playfully, inviting him to chase me, totally into the game now.
And then I turned and ran for all I was worth, Badger on my heels.

We tore off across the sodden grass, sprinting through
bushes and trees toward a park exit. Rainwater streamed down our faces. I
dashed toward a slit between buildings leading into a rundown historic area.

Dark, narrow alleys closed around us, the buildings leaning
together overhead as we raced through the twisting passageways.  The corridors
became cave-like, dark and damp, as we ran further and further, and ever
downward into the maze of passages. I hadn’t seen anyone, but muted light shone
through shaded windows. The further down we ran, the more noticeable the odors;
cooking smells mingled with rotting garbage, and the faint odor of urine.