The First Ghost (24 page)

“I’m never doing that again. Life is too short. So how is whatshername? The couch girl.”

“I don’t know. She stopped calling me back.”

“Who’s the new girl?”

“What makes you think…”

“Hickey on your neck.”

“Aw, shit. Do you think Mother saw?” He crossed three lanes of traffic and hit the off ramp without braking.

“It’s the size of Idaho. Of course she saw. What’s her name?”

“Violet.”

“Like the flower?”

“She’s an artist.”

“Cool. I want to meet her.”

“Double date?”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours? It’s a deal. One thing you have to know.”

“He’s not really a doctor.”

“Yes, he’s really a doctor. He’s a short doctor.”

Harry glanced over in amusement. “How short?”

“Short short.” I crossed my arms. “But he’s a doctor and he cooks and sings and does just about everything well. Tell me about Violet. What kind of art? This is not funny.” I cuffed him on the arm.

“It is so funny. You’re dating a short guy. Violet is different from my usual type too.”

“Omigod, is she ugly?”

“No, she’s not ugly. She’s hot. But she’s...you know...all crunchy-granola earth-mother. Just different.”

I grinned. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

The light ahead changed from green to yellow. Harry mashed the accelerator.

* * * *

I couldn’t face going back to Woll Ag, so I made good on my threat to quit. Besides, I needed the time to box up everything I owned and move back home. Harry and I signed the papers on our condo, but we still had months before we could turn the key. I’m not sure how Richard, Ellie’s husband, made the financing work, but he swore it was okay.

Since I was on a roll, I also called Ellie and told her I was keeping Billy. Things were more peaceful for Mother with Old Man Biddle gone, but this left the problem of what to do about the bodies buried somewhere on his property. Fierro and I had played a little phone tag, but I needed to see him in person to discuss things.

Violet was everything and nothing I expected. Her long brown hair hung in beaded braids. She had huge dark eyes and a too-large mouth that was always smiling.

Moving my possessions out of my apartment wasn’t the double date Harry and I had envisioned, but a yellow notice from the manager stepped up my moving plans. If I wasn’t out by tonight, the manager would go to court and have me forcibly evicted.

Violet had access to a horse trailer she used for hauling her pottery and sculptures around. We had a hearse, a van and Violet’s trailer, which meant only two trips.

“What’s in this one?” Violet held up a marker over the box I had taped.

I thought for a minute. “Hell if I know.”

“You just taped it,” Harry said.

“I know. I can’t remember what’s in there. Maybe books. Or dishes. It could be dishes.”

“I’ll write
fragile
,” Violet said. “Just to be safe.”

Ethan hoisted the box up. “Oof. Feels like books.”

“Hold the bottom,” I said. “I don’t want them dumped out in the parking lot.”

“Hearse or trailer?” he asked.

“Trailer. Those are going into storage.” I hated being without my books for a month, but there simply wasn’t room in Mother’s house for most of my things so I had rented a storage unit.

Harry smirked at me as Ethan staggered out with the box. He hadn’t made a crack about Ethan’s height, but he took every opportunity to tweak me about it. I ignored him.

My lovely apartment was almost empty. The few big items I owned--table, couch, bed, armchair--were already in storage.

“Ar-ar-ar-ar.” Billy raced back and forth across the seats of the hearse. I took him out so he could deposit one last turd in the shrubs.

Harry and Violet brought the final boxes out. “Meet you at the storage place,” Harry said and tossed me the keys to the hearse.

Ethan checked his watch.

“Go,” I said. “I don’t want you to be late for work.”

“I won’t. I have plenty of time to shower and change before my shift.”

“Good to finally meet you. See you Sunday.” Harry and Ethan clasped hands and did the manly shoulder thump thing. Harry had to bend down to do this.

I crossed my arms and turned to Harry. “Sunday?”

“I invited him to dinner,” Harry said.

“You should have checked with Mother first.”
And with me.

Harry smirked. “It was her idea.”

“Great.” I pasted on a smile. “You get to meet the family.”

“Is it okay?” Ethan asked.

“Of course. It’s great. Terrific.” Yikes. Deep breath.

Harry and Violet waved and drove off in the van. Ethan hooked a finger in my waistband, pulling me to him. “Are you sure it’s okay? You seemed a little...”

“Surprised. I was surprised.” I slipped both arms around him. “It takes bravery to face my entire family at one time. If you’re ready, I’m ready.”

I leaned down to kiss him. He pulled away slightly and glanced past my shoulder. “We have an audience.”

I turned to see Fierro sitting in his car. Talk about bad timing. “Oh. He’s a friend of mine. I’m sure he’s here to--” Think.
Think
.
“--talk,” I concluded. And I had thought my lying skills were improving.

Fierro unfolded himself from his front seat. Ethan kept an arm around me. He couldn’t have marked his territory more clearly if he had peed a circle around me.

“Hey, looks like moving day. This must be the boyfriend. Arthur Fierro.”

“Ethan Feller.”

The handshake lasted a little too long, as did the stare-down.

“Ethan was just leaving for work. It’s okay,” I said to Ethan more quietly.

Ethan leaned in for a possessive kiss. He gave Fierro a look before driving off.

“Didn’t mean to set your boyfriend off.”

“He’s not usually like that.”

“It’s okay. I get it. Short man syndrome.”

I put my hands on my hips. “Did you need something?”

“Boyfriend doesn’t know shit about what’s going on, does he?”

“No, and you’d better not tell him, either.”

“Got your message about quitting the job. It’s a good thing.”

“You have something new?”

“We’ve identified the pages from Ruth’s desk. The bootleg copies.”

“Tamaguchi, right?”

“That’s what we thought, too. But no. They belong to Dr. Seleman.” He put a hand up. “I know. I know. That secretary guy said that Ruth typed Tamaguchi’s papers. But I showed them around and got a second opinion. Seleman confirmed it. He gave his notes exclusively to Corinne to type.”

“So Ruth took them from Corinne? That means...”

“Her accidental poisoning may not have been so accidental. Ruth could know about Corinne eating other people’s food.”

“I don’t think it was a big secret. Duncan Werner told me about it. But that was a big gamble to take. Why not some kind of accident at home?”

“The same reason Ruth used Seleman’s heart meds. She probably wanted to keep suspicion away from her.”

“You can’t be positive it was Ruth.”

“I can,” he said smugly. “There was a print on the drawer to Seleman’s desk. Oh, she was careful to wipe the bottle, but not careful enough to get the whole desk.”

“She could have left that print anytime. It could have been when she was stealing his work.”

I didn’t think it was possible for him to look even more smug, but he managed. “This was the drawer he keeps personal items in. It was the meds.”

I was more confused than ever. I just wasn’t cut out for the detective thing. “But we still aren’t any closer to knowing who Ruth was giving the pages to.”

He smiled and leaned against the van. “Closer than you think. You’re a smart girl. Use your head. Who is doing the same type of research? Who is she already handing typed pages to?”

It finally clicked. Well,
duh
! “Tamaguchi! Ruth and Tamaguchi were in it together!”

“Think about it. Multiple scientists all chasing the same scientific discovery? At the end is international acclaim, not to mention Woll Ag has promised a huge cash bonus to the first one. So Tamaguchi persuades Ruth to steal the papers from her roommate’s desk, copy them and replace them. Then Ruth simply includes the information in Tamaguchi’s own field notes as if he did the work.”

“She was in love with him,” I said. “Ellie did a reading. Ruth was in love with her killer. She stole for him.”

Fierro was still for a moment. “And what sort of object did she read?”

I couldn’t meet his eyes. Instead I dug the bracelet out of a box. I had put it with my good jewelry and knew exactly where to find it. I handed it to him without a word. “It has a racquet on it. Tamaguchi plays squash. I think he gave it to her.”

“Can you explain this?” He dangled the bracelet on the end of one finger.

“I took it from Ruth’s apartment.”

“How could you do this? I vouched for you with the other detectives. This could be evidence. How am I supposed to explain my having this bracelet?” His voice rose.

“Say you found it.”

“You mean lie?”

“Is that so bad?”

“This is a murder investigation. I can’t do that.”

I faced him, hands on hips. “So you’ve been open about everything? About working with a clairvoyant? About where you get your information?”

“This is different. You took a piece of evidence.”

“I didn’t know it was evidence.” I flapped my arms in frustration.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph. I don’t know how I’m gonna smooth this one over.”

It was too late for contrite. I told him about the pug figurine too and what I did with it. When he was good and angry, I told him about Old Man Biddle. That stopped him.

“Are you serious? Bartholomew Biddle? Geez, I know that guy. They were always sure he killed his wives, but never could find a bit of evidence. His picture is up in the break room so guys can throw darts at it.”

“Well, those bodies are someplace on that property, and I think I can get you access.”

“I sure would like to close those cases. At least he got what he had coming.”

I grimaced. “Yeah, I’d have to say that he did. It was horrible, yet strangely satisfying.”

“Anything more from Starla?”

I shook my head. “Not a peep. I’m afraid we’ve lost her.”

“That’s too bad.”

We stood there in silence.

“So you’re not mad anymore? Ellie had good information.”

He sighed heavily. “Not that I can use any of it. You’ve put me in a bad place, a real bad place.”

“But it confirms your theory, right?”

“It’s not just theory, Portia. We’ve got an arrest warrant out for Ken Tamaguchi. We searched his house and found a shirt with Ruth’s blood on it. He just rinsed it and put it in with things to be laundered. Arrogant shit. I wanted to warn you off so you could stay clear of that place.”

“I have to pick up my last check.”

He caught my elbow. “I don’t think you should be there for any reason. I’ll call you when he’s in custody.”

“Tell that to the bank. I’m picking up my paycheck.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“That’s ridiculous. I don’t need an armed escort.”

“I’m telling you that place isn’t safe.”

I jerked my arm away. “Who are you to tell me anything? Besides, the place is crawling with security.” I figured the fat guy watching his soaps counted. He could be armed.

“Can’t you get a direct deposit or something? Maybe they could mail it to you.”

“I’ll call them.” I had no intention of doing that, but lying was easier than arguing.

His eyes narrowed.

“What? You win. I won’t go.”

“That was too easy. I know you.”

I crossed my arms. “You don’t know me at all.”

“And for the record, I’m still mad at you. You put me in a bad spot.”

I drove off with Billy and left him there, glaring at me from the parking lot. Fierro had no right to get so involved in my life.

Did he?

There was true panic on his face when I mentioned going back to Woll Ag. I glanced over at Billy, who stood with his front paws up on the dash. He grinned at me, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. “Oh boy,” I said. “This is a complication I don’t need.”

* * * *

First thing Monday morning, I drove to Woll Ag to pick up my last check. Fat Carl was behind his console taking in
The View
. I guess it was too early for his soaps. He hitched his belt at the sight of me and lumbered to his feet. “Duncan said to call him when you came in. Ya can’t go up.” He leaned on the counter. “Security, ya know? Nothin’ personal.”

I smiled to show no hurt feelings here. “I understand.”

I only waited a minute before Duncan swished off the elevator. His eyes were red, and his goatee needed a trim. Even worse, his puce pocket handkerchief clearly did not complement his aqua suit.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

“Other than being shorthanded?” He glared. “Why wouldn’t it be? Christ, I need a cigarette!”

I held out my hand for the beige envelope he was holding. He started pacing back and forth, stroking the soul patch on his chin. “You know, right? You know they’re looking for Ken Tamaguchi?”

“I heard that. My check?”

He slapped it in my hand. “Hope you’re happy.” He spun on his heel and stalked off into the waiting elevator.

Fat Carl raised both eyebrows. I shrugged.

Mahaffey-Ringold was much more pleasant without Old Man Biddle. Boris reverted to his ebullient self, butchering
Tin Pan Alley
and tormenting Lady Hildegard. I was in the break room when I heard the strains of
Ain’t We Got Fun
trilling down the hall. Since Mother had a living client in her office, this seemed particularly inappropriate. As I stepped into the sanctuary to admonish Boris, I ran into a painfully thin woman. I mean, ran into her literally, sending us both sprawling.

“Hah! Bit of a collision, what?” Boris stopped playing and zoomed upward for a better vantage.

“I am so sorry,” I said. “I was going to turn the--”

“You have the oddest music system in this place.” The woman brushed herself off and straightened the crocheted doily pinned to her hair, the kind little old ladies sometimes cover their heads with in church. “Is that one of those automatic organs? Like a player piano?”