Who Invited the Ghost to Dinner: A Ghost Writer Mystery (33 page)

Chapter 42

Thursday night/Friday morning

M
ac opened the door for us when we arrived at the Ingram house twenty minutes later.  “What’s up?” he asked me as he closed the door behind us.

“We came to see you and Clinton,” I said.

“About Brennan?”

“Yes, about Brennan,” I said, glancing sideways at Mike, who shook his head.

“Is he mad about something?” Mac said.

“No, just sure he is right about who the killer is.”

“He thinks it’s Brennan?”

“No, he thinks it’s Pamela Dimwitty. So where is everyone?”

“In the living room.”

“Come on,” I told Mike. “They’re in the living room.”

The three of us walked into the living room. Clinton and Lillian were sitting on the couch, their heads pressed close together. I heard her giggle at something he said.

“Well?” I said to Mike. “Do you see Clinton?”

“Of course I do,” he said.

“Really? Where is he?”

“Sitting in that tall chair by the fireplace.”

“What’s he wearing?”

“Don’t you believe me?” he said.

“No, actually, I don’t. I think you want to be right so much that you’d lie about it. Now, what’s he wearing?”

“A suit and tie.”

I glanced at Clinton, who was giving me a funny look. He was wearing a smoking jacket, pants, shirt, and no tie. “Can you do something to let him know where you’re at?” I asked him.

“I’ll try,” Clinton replied. He put his foot on the edge of the coffee table and pushed it. The table slid a couple of feet, and I saw Mike jump and then frown.

I took his hand in mine. “Mike, this isn’t like you. You’re not the type of cop who would go after a particular person without solid proof. I think you feel guilty about what happened to Reagan, and it’s making you want to find a killer, no matter what. You can’t just grab onto the smallest connection and be satisfied that you have the right person. That dishonors your badge and Reagan.”

“You’re right,” he said after a couple of minutes. “Okay, I’ll listen to what you have to say.”

I had brought in the file that Mike had given me, and I dropped it on top of the coffee table and slid it back into place. “Clinton, we have some questions about Desmond Long Sr.”

Clinton frowned. “What about him?”

“How did you come to hire him?” I said, opening the file.

He thought about it a minute. “I was at a job site one day when he came over and started asking questions. He seemed like a nice guy, knew what he was talking about, which was refreshing. A lot of the men on the job site only knew about specific things, like the drywall, or framing, things like that. But this guy seemed to know it all.”

I looked at Mac, who shrugged. “And then what?”

“There was an accident. The bricklayers were working on the second floor of a house when the scaffolding collapsed. Long was there that day, talking to me as usual. He ran over with me, helped take care of the men. We loaded the injured guys into the back end of a truck and one of the other guys drove them to the hospital. When I turned around, Long was helping the other bricklayers reconstruct the scaffolding. And then he climbed up there next to them and started laying bricks! I couldn’t believe it. I hired him after that.”

I found a picture in the file and slid it across the coffee table toward Clinton. “Is this Long?” I asked him.

“Yeah, that’s him. That’s what he looked like when I first hired him.”

I told Mike everything Clinton had said as I picked up the picture and looked at the back of it. “Well, would you look at that?” I said. I handed the picture to Mike, who flipped it over and looked at the back of it. “What do you have to say now?”

Mike handed the picture back to me and pulled out his phone. “Reynolds, I want you to go pick up Desmond Long Sr. right now. No, I’m not kidding. What? Tell him that I have an urgent matter to discuss with him, and he’s the only one with the inside information to help me.”

“What’s going on?” Clinton asked me.

“He wants to know what’s going on, Mike.”

“Tell him.”

I looked over at Mac. “Up to you.”

“He needs to know.”

“The man you know as Desmond Long Sr. is really a man named Brennan. He was an inside man for the mob. They might have forced you to name Mac vice president, but it was Brennan who did all the dirty work.”

Mike gasped. “What’s wrong?”

“I can see her.”

“Who?”

“Lillian. She’s sitting on the couch.” He stared at them for a minute. “Is she wearing pearls?”

“Yes, she is,” I said. “Can you see Mac?”

“No, just her.”

Mac looked disappointed. “It’s okay,” I told him. “That just means we haven’t found your killer yet. Don’t give up.”

“We better go,” Mike said. “I’ve got some work to do.”

“Chief, we appreciate what you’re doing for us,” Lillian said.

“You’re welcome, Mrs. Ingram.”

I put everything back in the folder. “Thank you for your help,” I told them.

“You’ll keep us posted?” Clinton asked.

I nodded. “When I know something, I’ll do my best to let you know.”

Mike’s phone rang as we walked out. “Penhall. Yeah, Reynolds, what’s up?” He stopped at the bottom of the steps. “Are you kidding me?” He ran his fingers through his hair. “All right, meet me back at the station. I’ll be there in half an hour.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Long Sr., aka Brennan, has done a runner. They went back to the family house, so his mother could see that Junior was all right. Apparently, as soon as his son got out of the car and closed the door, Brennan left and he hasn’t come back. His phone goes straight to voicemail.”

“Can’t you track him through his GPS?”

“I’m going to try that as soon as I get back to the station, which is why I need to take you home.”

“I understand.”

When he dropped me off, he said, “Make sure you turn on the alarm as soon as you get inside.”

“I will.”

“And do me a favor. Go through the rest of that file and see what you can find out. Maybe he has a hideout or a specific place he likes to go to get away from it all, so to speak.”

“Sure, no problem.”

I started to close the car door, but he stopped me. “One last thing. Don’t go anywhere by yourself. Call me, Randy or your folks if you need to go out.”

“Why? You don’t think he’ll come after me, do you?”

“I don’t plan on taking any chances.”

“You watch your own back. I’ll take care of mine.”

Mike grinned. “I could make a comment, but I don’t have time to follow up on it right now. I’ll check on you in the morning.”

I laughed and closed the car door. He waited until I was inside before he left. Despite my bravado, the first thing I did was turn on the alarm. Hey, I’m brave, not stupid.

After I got ready for bed, I lugged the laptop and file into my bedroom and dropped them on the bed. I grabbed a bottle of water and some Snickerdoodle cookies one of my good friends had made for me, along with a notepad and pen, and went back to my room. I propped the pillows up, grabbed the TV remote, found an old war movie to watch and opened the file.

Donovan Michael Brennan was born in Hell’s Kitchen in New York City. He was kicked out of school numerous times for various reasons; fighting and stealing were the top two reasons, although he once kicked a nun in the shin after she hit him on the hand with a ruler. The one place he did excel was in the Army, where he rose to the rank of First Sergeant. He was awarded several medals for valor and meritorious service.

After the Army, Brennan went back home, where he hooked up with some of his old friends. He quickly took charge of the group and organized them. Because of their efficiency, they gained the attention of the mob, who quickly absorbed the group into their organization. Brennan worked his way up the ranks, and soon became the favorite go-to guy when something needed done. They sent him to Vegas, where he met an angry young man who had just been cut off from the family money by his father. Brennan saw this as an opportunity to branch out into Texas, and took his idea to his boss.

In the late 1960s, Brennan disappeared. No one had a clue what happened to him. There was a lot of speculation that he had done something to upset his boss, and that his body was buried somewhere in the Nevada desert. Guess we all know that’s not true, don’t we?

There was more information in the file, and I fell asleep reading. The ringing of my phone woke me up the next morning. “Hello?” I mumbled as I tried to open my eyes.

“It’s almost eight-thirty,” Dad said. “I just wanted to make sure you were all right, since you hadn’t come in yet.”

“Sorry, Dad, late night. What’s up?”

“Apparently your grandmother is trying to recreate her Vegas trip at her house,” he sighed. “That woman…”

“What is she doing?”

“She’s been having blackjack and poker tournaments, I think,” he replied. “The people at the nursing home are not happy about having to go over there all the time to find their clients. I thought you were going over to see her. Why didn’t you tell us this was going on?”

“I’m sorry, Dad, I never made it over there. Things with the Ingram case have been a little crazy, and then what happened with Reagan the other night…”

“How are Mike and his officers doing?”

“They’re pretty focused on finding her killer. There was a break in the case last night, and they have the name of a suspect.”

“It’s not Pamela Dimwitty, is it?”

“No, although I think she’s involved somehow. We just haven’t found the connection yet.”

“I’m sure Mike will figure it out,” Dad said. “Your mother wants to know if you would go check on your grandmother. She’s fixed a batch of cranberry orange muffins for you to take with you.”

“Grandma’s favorite. So she’s hoping I can butter Grandma Alma up and convince her to stop throwing card parties.”

“Well, your grandmother listens to you more than she does her own daughter, so we’re hoping you could give it a shot,” Dad laughed.

“Sure, Dad, I’ll talk to her.”

“I’ll leave the muffins at the front counter with Regina.”

“Thanks. I’ll be there in a little while.”

After I took a shower and got dressed, I gathered all of the papers, put them back in the folder, and dug an old black leather backpack out of my closet. Putting all of my necessities inside, along with the folder and borrowed laptop, I grabbed a jacket and keys, made sure the alarm was set for away, and walked outside.

My phone rang again, and I dug through the bag to find it. “I’m on my way, Dad, I promise.”

“Um, I’m not your dad.”

“Sorry, Mike. I thought he was calling to make sure that I was on my way to the coffeehouse. Seems our grandparents are wreaking havoc again.”

“What this time?”

“Apparently, Grandma Alma has been running blackjack and poker tournaments at their house at all hours of the day. The people at the nursing home are getting a bit upset about their clients disappearing.”

“Maybe I should go with you, put the power of the law behind it.”

“Your grandfather would see right through that.”

“I’m surprised he’s letting it happen.”

“So, what can I do for you this cold cloudy morning?”

“Right now, we’re playing the waiting game. Long’s car was found abandoned at DFW Airport. Security is going through the footage from last night to find out where he went. They’re going to send it to me when they find it. I’ve already talked to his wife and son; neither one of them have any idea where he would go. Junior said his father didn’t say anything on the drive to the house about leaving.”

“Do you think he’s telling the truth?”

“Yeah, I do, as much as I hate to admit it. And there’s still no sign of Pamela Dimwitty. Every time we get a break in this case, we seem to take two steps backwards.”

I opened the car door and put my bag behind the driver’s seat. “I don’t understand why he took off,” I said as I sat down in the driver’s seat. “We didn’t realize who he was until long after they were gone.”

“I thought that was kind of odd, too,” Mike said. “We’ll have to ask him that when we find him.”

“Why don’t I swing by and pick you up? We can talk to our grandparents about what happened back then. Maybe we can get some insight from what they tell us.”

“Hey, that’s a good idea. I’m glad I thought of it.”

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “I’ll be there in a little while.”

“See you soon.”

I picked up Mike first, and then stopped at the coffeehouse. Dad must have heard us talking at the counter, because he came out to say hello. He pulled Mike aside and talked to him for a few minutes. I know he wanted to find out for himself how Mike was doing. Dad got a surprised look on his face at one point, and then nodded. Mike motioned for me to join them.