by Jane Hinchey
“Nurse’s orders.” He took a burger and box of fries for himself and handed the bag to me. I accepted gratefully, not knowing how to react to this man.
8
“Where have you been?” My voice came out high pitched and whiney and I cleared my throat, trying to bring it down an octave or two.
Detective Kade Galloway had dropped me at home, saying he’d arrange to have my car returned to me and that I should rest up. He’d be in touch regarding a formal statement. That had been twelve hours ago and right up until this very second, there had been no sign of Ben.
“Sorry.” It was one of those apologies where you knew the issuer wasn’t sorry in the slightest—the word nothing more than an automatic response to having one’s ear chewed off.
“So?” I prodded. Ben lowered himself onto the sofa next to me with a sigh.
“I was supervising the scene.”
“And? Did they find anything else? They discovered the blood, right?”
He nodded. “They did. They’ve taken swabs. They’ve actually been very thorough.”
“You sound surprised.”
“Given the first responders were Clements and Mills, yeah. But Galloway knows what he’s doing and from what I saw he’s working hard to make changes in the force. I don’t envy him with that job.”
“You two are friends?” I couldn’t keep the surprise out of my voice, but Ben was already shaking his head.
“Nope. Only met recently.”
“Ahhh, the case.” I nodded. Galloway had mentioned he had something he wanted Ben's help with.
“He told you?” Ben’s head snapped around and pinned me with a stare.
I lifted my shoulders. “Not at all. He said it was classified, but that he wanted your input."
Flopping back on the sofa, Ben tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling. “Well, it’s your case now.”
“What do you mean, it’s my case now?” While he couldn’t possibly be any more relaxed, I was bean pole straight, my body taut with tension. After yesterday I’d already decided I was not cut out for the P.I. business. Finding dead bodies was exhausting.
“You need to find out what happened to me, Fitz.” The pleading look in Ben’s eyes was my undoing. I opened my mouth to respond only to be interrupted by a big grey cat.
“Where’s the litter tray?” Thor demanded from his position at the foot of my bed.
“Oh, you’re finally awake.” My car had been returned to me the evening before, along with one very loudly complaining cat.
“Hey,” Thor protested with a stretch, “I’m a cat. It’s what we do. Now about this litter tray? Or I can pee in one of your shoes, your choice.”
I looked at Ben in panic. I had no supplies to care for a cat. No litter box. No food. I’d put down a saucer of water upon his arrival, but he hadn’t touched it.
Ben looked from me to Thor and back again, his face lit up with a big grin. “This is perfect,” he said.
“Hardly!” Thor and I said in unison, then eyeballed each other.
Ben was shaking his head. “No, you don’t get it. Audrey, we need to get you back into the house—Thor is a brilliant cover.”
“Oh, right.” I got it. Wait, no I didn’t. “Why do I need to get back into your house again?”
“To access my files. My death has to be related to one of my cases.”
I cleared my throat. “Yes, well, I’m sure the police are working that angle too,” I said. “They aren’t going to appreciate me sticking my nose in.”
“I already told you, you’re a natural at this. You’ve got a bright, inquisitive mind.”
“And a clumsy, disaster-prone body,” I felt compelled to point out. “Hardly the material for a P.I.”
“And need I mention her predilection for fainting?” Thor chimed in.
“My what now?”
“Ignore him.” Ben brought my attention back to him. “He likes to use big words for a cat.” Ben eyed Thor with narrowed eyes. “She gets a pass for fainting. She had two very big shocks yesterday. In all the time I’ve known her, she’s never fainted before. It’s not an issue.”
Thor raised his nose in the air. “If you say so.” Jumping off the bed, he sniffed at a pair of red sneakers. “I wasn’t joking when I said I needed to pee,” Thor grumbled, his tail flicking.
“Oh no, you don’t!” Scooping up the grey bundle of fur, I looked at Ben beseechingly. I’d never owned a pet before. I was at a loss.
Ben laughed. “Just open the door and let him go outside. Thor, don’t wander off, okay? You’re not familiar with this neighborhood, and yes, before you protest, I know you have amazing feline skills, but please humor me on this. Do your business, then come straight back. We’ll leave the door open.”
“Very well. If you insist,” Thor rumbled near my ear. Opening the door, I set him down and watched as he trotted outside and disappeared down the stairs.
“He’ll be okay?” Chewing on my lip, I swiveled my head to look at Ben then back to where the cat had disappeared, worried something would happen to him. What if a dog came along and chased him? Or what if he got distracted and got hit by a car? Or someone thought he was a stray and picked him up? So many possibilities, none of them good.
“Relax, he’ll be fine,” Ben assured me.
“Have you always been able to understand him?” I asked.
Ben shook his head. “No. This is new to me too, but I figure it’s something to do with my ghostly situation.” A chill shivered its way up my spine a second before Ben teased in my ear. “Awwww, look at you, being a caring pet parent.”
“Shut up.”
My phone rang and reluctantly I abandoned my position by the door to answer it.
“Audrey Fitzgerald.”
“Miss Fitzgerald, my name is Athena. I’m calling from McConnell Law Firm.”
“Riiiiight…” I frowned, wondering what on earth they could want.
“To schedule an appointment for you to meet with one of our lawyers, John Zampa,” she continued.
“An appointment? Why?”
“I believe it is in regard to Mr. Benjamin Delaney’s estate.”
I lapsed into silence.
“Who is it?” Ben mouthed at me.
Putting my hand over the mouthpiece, I muttered, “Is John Zampa your lawyer?” Realization dawned and Ben’s mouth formed a perfect O.
“Hello? Miss Fitzgerald? Are you there?”
Clearing my throat, I removed my hand. “Yes, sorry, I’m here.”
“Oh good, I thought I’d lost you.”
“I’m here,” I repeated.
“As I mentioned, we’d like to set a time for you to come in and meet with Mr. Zampa.”
“To go over Ben’s will?”
“Yes. Would this afternoon work? Two o’clock?”
“Wow. That’s fast.” Considering my unemployed status, I didn’t really have any excuse not to attend. But attending made Ben’s death even more real. More real than I wanted it to be. More real than I could face, despite the fact that his ghost now hovered in front of me with a look of concern on his face.
“What is it?” he whispered.
“They want to talk to me about your will,” I whispered back.
“Sorry?” Athena spoke into my ear and I belatedly remembered that she was still on the line.
“Two o’clock is fine. I’ll see you then.” I disconnected the call and eyeballed Ben. “Care to tell me why I’m meeting with your lawyer this afternoon to discuss your will?”
Ben had the grace to look sheepish. “Yeah, I’ve been meaning to tell you about that, but I never thought it was going to be an issue.”
“What?”
Before he could respond, Thor returned, announcing he was ready for breakfast. Knowing I had nothing in the house remotely suitable for a cat to consume, I snatched up my car keys. “Right, might as well get this over with. You coming, Thor, or will you wait here?” I felt stupid asking a cat what he wanted to do, but under
the circumstances, I figured it was the best thing to do.
“I’ll come with you. Your driving can’t be any worse than that human from yesterday.” He was referring to the police officer who’d driven my car home for me—and delivered Thor. He’d sported a bleeding scratch on the back of his hand for his trouble.
The drive to Ben’s house was spent in complete silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts. As soon as I’d pulled up in the driveway and opened the door, Thor had launched himself over me and disappeared down the side of his house, presumably to the cat door at the rear.
“Guess he really is hungry,” I muttered, slamming the door and locking it. Slowly I approached the house. Yellow and black crime scene tape blocked the front door.
“Now what?”
“We ignore it,” Ben said.
“What? No way. I’m not going to get arrested over disturbing a crime scene. You saw how happy those two morons were to arrest me yesterday,” I protested, visions of being carted off to jail playing across my mind.
Ben sighed. “You have a point.” While he was busy pondering what our next course of action should be, I pulled out my phone and dialed.
“Galloway,” the voice on the other end barked.
“Detective Galloway, this is Audrey Fitzgerald.”
There was a moment’s pause, then. “Audrey. How can I help you?”
“Look, I’m at Ben’s house—and yes, I know, it’s a crime scene…I can see the tape. But here’s the thing. I’m looking after Ben’s cat. I need supplies.”
“Can’t you go buy what you need?” he said. A perfectly reasonable response, darn it.
“I got fired this week.” Not a lie. “I’d prefer not to be spending money if I didn’t have to.” Again, not a lie, not entirely. But the truth was I could totally afford to go and buy Thor anything he needed. My savings account was flush. But I needed to get into the house and this seemed the best way to do it.
“Hang on a sec.” I listened to the rustling on the other end of the line, then what sounded like someone typing on a keyboard. “I expedited it for you.” Galloway was back on the line.
“Expedited what?”
“The crime scene has been cleared. We’ve already collected all the evidence we can from the property so you are cleared to return,” he explained. “Just pull the tape down.”
“Oh. Okay. That was quick, thank you.” I disconnected the call and glanced at Ben, who was looking at me with a grin on his face.
“What?”
“Crime scenes do not usually get cleared that quickly. Normally you’d be looking at days, sometimes weeks before the property is released.”
“Oh. What does that mean?”
“It means that Galloway likes you. He pulled strings.”
“Or it could just mean that it was true what he said—they’ve actually finished processing your house and have no reason to keep me out.” I did not want to think that Kade Galloway was doing me favors because doing someone a favor meant they owed you, and I did not want to owe the police department anything. Not ever. Despite Ben being seemingly on good terms with the detective, I wasn’t so quick to forget his awful treatment while on the force.
“Don’t get on the wrong side of him, Audrey,” Ben said, reading my mind.
“I’m not,” I huffed, ripping the tape from the door and screwing it into a ball in my fist. “Just because you like the guy doesn’t mean I have to,” I pointed out, sliding my key into the lock and turning. “After all, I met him like two days ago. Trust has to be earned.”
Stepping into Ben’s foyer, I looked around wide-eyed at the sight that greeted me. “Shit.”
Ben brushed past me, an icy trail following. “Yeah, one thing about the cops…they don’t clean up after themselves.” Fingerprint dust marred multiple surfaces. Doors and drawers stood open, the contents either roughly pushed back in or left spilled out across the floor.
“I don’t suppose you have any magical abilities that will clean all this up?” I asked, hands on hips as I surveyed the disaster zone.
“Not that I’m aware of.” Although, bless his heart, he stood with his hands outstretched and appeared to be trying to cast some sort of spell. I giggled, my shoulders shaking with mirth.
“Hey!” Thor trotted towards us. “My food bowls are gone!”
Ben and I turned and looked toward the spot near the sliding glass doors where Thor’s bowls usually sat. He was right, they were gone.
“Evidence.” Ben nodded.
“It’s okay, I’ll get one out of the cupboard.” Thor followed close by my heel as I rummaged in the kitchen for a bowl, then filled it with kibble for him. Ben groaned when I placed it on the floor.
“What?”
“It’s just…that’s a cereal bowl.” He was frowning and looking uncomfortable.
“Do you need to….you know?” I cocked my head toward the bathroom.
“What?” He grumbled, obviously unhappy about something.
“You know. Go pee? Or poop? Or fart?”
He sighed, shaking his head. “I’m a ghost, Audrey. I can no longer do any of those things.”
“Then why do you look like you’re constipated?” I demanded.
“Because cats shouldn’t eat out of human bowls!” he declared. Ahhh. I’d forgotten that Ben was a bit anal, not only with the cleanliness of his home but also with things like allowing pets to eat off of human crockery.
As much as it would be fun to tease him, I figured now wasn’t the time. He had just recently died after all. “We’re going to have to, just this once,” I said. “Thor needs to eat and his bowls are evidence. Fingerprints?”
“Yeah. We know the bowls were moved. Could be blood too.”
Distracting Ben from his discomfort over watching his cat eat out of a cereal bowl I asked, “So where are these files?”
“On the computer—in the office.”
Dusting my hands on my jeans, I squared my shoulders. “Come on then. Let’s go see what you were working on that ended up getting you killed.”
9
Philip Drake was the General Manager of the Firefly Bay Hotel, a five-star establishment towering over the bay along the esplanade. The hotel specialized in fine dining, afternoon teas, and a cooking school, alongside luxury accommodation. Philip had hired Ben to run a background check on his daughter’s new boyfriend.
“Seriously?” I said, more to myself than to Ben, who was hovering behind me and reading over my shoulder. “He wanted you to dig up the dirt on his daughter’s boyfriend? What’s up with that?”
“He’s an overprotective dad. Sophie’s mom died when she was a toddler and it’s been just the two of them ever since.”
“But a background check?” I scoffed. “Overkill, don’t you think?”
I clicked through the files on Ben’s computer. “Errr.” I paused and leaned closer, squinting at the screen. “Gone a bit out of the boundaries of the brief, don’t ya think, Delaney?” On the screen was a diagram linking Philip and his daughter, Sophie, Sophie’s boyfriend, Logan Crane, and two of Philip’s employees, Brett Baxter and Steven Armstrong. I tapped on Brett and Steven’s names. “Why are they here?”
When Ben didn’t answer I swiveled in my chair only to find him running a hand over his chin in apparent thought. “You know…” He paused, drifting off as his thought processes whirled.
After a solid sixty seconds of silence, I finally prompted, “What?”
“What?” He shook his head, snapping out of his stupor.
“The Drake case?” I prompted. “Why are these two individuals in your file?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged and I knew today was going to be a level five caffeine consumption day.
“As in, you don’t remember?” I sighed, the heavy weight of the truth settling over me like a wet blanket. It looked like Ben didn’t recall the details of his cases. How handy.
He rested a hand on my shoulder, giving me immediate frostbite. “Sorry.” And I knew
he meant it. Hell, it must be frustrating for him, not remembering what had happened, nor what he’d been working on. Not to mention being dead. I imagined that would suck big time too.
Shrugging his icy hand away, I grinned. “Never mind. Looks like you’ve already done some work here.” I opened up another file and read it aloud. “You’ve thoroughly researched Logan, his financial and credit history, social background, criminal record. It looks to me as if the job is done.”
“But it’s not closed.” Ben indicated the green tab meaning he hadn’t closed off the file in his system. “I hadn’t finished.”
“Or maybe you hadn’t delivered the results to Drake yet?”
“Which is odd. Look at the date.”
I did. The entry was from five days ago. Ben wouldn’t have kept his client waiting any longer than necessary, so why hadn’t he delivered the final report and closed out the case? Not to mention get paid.
“Philip Drake was right to be concerned—look what you turned up. Logan Crane is a drug user, possible dealer and has priors for car theft and B&E…what’s B&E?”
“Breaking and entering.”
“Right. So Logan Crane is a low life. Why are you sitting on this?”
“Must be something to do with these two.” Ben pointed at the two employees on the screen.
“You don’t have much on them. Steven Armstrong is thirty-five and Front of House Manager. Hardly a crime,” I drawled, before continuing to read, “And Brett Baxter, twenty-seven, Event Planner.” I glanced at Ben again, hoping something—anything — would jog his memory. Nothing. I sighed, closed out of the Drake file and opened the next one in Ben’s database.
“Tonya Armstrong. Hired you for spousal surveillance.”
“Meaning she thought her husband was cheating.”
“And was he?”
Ben began pacing. “Dunno. Can’t remember. What does the file say?”
Frowning, I watched him, noticed the tense line of his shoulders, the clenched jaw. This was as frustrating for him as it was for me. If only he could do something useful while I went through the files—like make me coffee.