by K. J. Emrick
“Well, yes, I am. At least you got one name right. Are you still looking for this Josh person?” She waggled a finger at him, managing to sway her whole body as she did. “Maybe you need your eyes checked, Mister Officer Man.”
“Oh, we know Josh Bates was here, Mrs. Peniston,” Jack nodded, not put off by her flirtatious lies. “Right now, that’s not what I want to talk to you about. I need to inform you that your husband, Leon Peniston, died this evening.”
Janice stared at him. Just stared. Then she slowly crumpled down into her seat again, one hand covering her face as she made small noises of despair. She was as close to inconsolable as Miranda had ever seen anyone get. At least, she sounded that way. Miranda couldn’t actually see her face, and she’d seen people lie before.
How would she react, she asked herself, if someone told her Jack had died?
“That was kind of cold,” the mystery man said to Jack. “You just come out and tell her Leon is dead? Don’t they teach you guys how to be sensitive in cop school?”
“You don’t seem all that surprised about it,” Jack pointed out to him. “What did you say your name was?”
“My name, since you asked me so nicely, is Braydon.”
Miranda’s jaw practically dropped to the floor. “You’re Braydon? Braydon Wise?”
The man turned his steely gaze on her again and he actually gave her a little bow from his waist, arm crooked over his stomach. “The one and only. I see my reputation precedes me.”
“You could say that, yes,” Miranda said.
Here was one more detail that connected to her, and to Aunt Connie, and to the whole mystery. There had been an old newspaper clipping delivered to her at Ragged Rest with a story about how her Aunt Connie went missing, and about how the police were still investigating the case. Miranda must have read that story a thousand times before she turned it over and found a different story on the back. That one had been incomplete, cut around the shape of the article on the front, but it was about a bank robbery. One that had happened about the same time as her aunt went missing.
The only witness to the bank robbery, according to the article, was a young man named Braydon Wise.
Everything kept going around in circles and coming back to her.
And if that wasn’t enough, there was a recording that was recovered from the Blue Jay Bed and Breakfast of a conversation between Caleb Owen, the dead man that they’d discovered on their way home from their weekend camping trip, and a man called Braydon. Was this the same Braydon?
“Were you the one who sent me that article?” she asked Braydon on a hunch. “Were you the one who broke into my house?” She thought it best not to mention the recording until she’d talked to Jack.
He flashed his perfect teeth at her again. “I have no idea what you are talking about, Miss Wylder.”
Her blood went cold. For the third time tonight, someone knew her name before she’d given it.
“How did you…?” she started to ask.
“I’ve read your books, Miss Wylder, that’s how. I especially loved The Mob’s Calling. Your last one was a little too formula-driven for my tastes, but hey.” He shrugged. “They can’t all be winners. Your picture is on the back of every book. You’ve got one of those faces. Hard to forget.”
She wasn’t sure she believed him. Yes, people recognized her from her writing, just like Jimmy Jones said he had. However, as popular as she liked to think she was, and as popular as the New York Times best seller list seemed to indicate, the odds of this many people in one day recognizing her from the dust jacket of her books? Stephen King couldn’t walk into grocery stores without ever being bothered once for an autograph but three people in Moonlight Bay were going to recognize Miranda Wylder?
Not likely.
“My name’s Hannah,” the brunette at Braydon’s other side said. She seemed annoyed not to be part of the conversation. “Just in case anyone was wondering. I mean, since we’re all throwing our names out there and everything. Yup. Hannah Smith. That’s me.”
“Tell me, Mister Wise,” Jack said, steering the conversation back to police matters. “How is it that you know the wife of the victim?”
Braydon Wise took the hand of the brunette, Hannah Smith, and pulled her close. “We’re friends. We just came here to have dinner, the three of us.”
“Four of you,” Jack corrected. “The three of you and Josh Bates.”
Braydon shook his head and lied smoothly. “Sorry, Detective Travis. I still don’t know who you’re talking about. Never heard of a Josh Bates. Now, if you’ll excuse us, I think we should take Janice out of here. She just got some very bad news.”
“I’d like to ask her some questions, actually.”
“Sorry,” Braydon said again. “Unless you’re arresting us for something, then we’re going to leave.”
He took out three twenties from his wallet and dropped them on the table. It was way too much to cover what looked like nothing more than three cups of coffee. Braydon picked one of the cups up, and brought it with him as he turned away, taking his lady friends with him.
Miranda tried to get a feeling for those three. Braydon and Hannah were standing very close together, and holding hands, and by all appearances they must have been in love. Miranda got the distinct impression that it was all an act. Something that they had practiced and perfected over time. She could sense that they weren’t really together. Not like that.
Sometimes being psychic came in handy.
As she watched them go, she saw how Braydon’s attention kept turning to Janice. Sometimes you didn’t need to be psychic to know when a man’s heart was wandering.
Interesting.
Kyle cleared his throat next to her. “You do realize that he took his cup of coffee with him, right?”
“So?” Miranda asked. No one was watching them, so she could talk freely as long as she was quiet. “He paid for the coffee. In fact, he paid extra.”
“Sure, I know. I can see that thin stack of twenties. My point is he took the actual cup.”
“So what?”
“So, it’s not a takeaway cup, that’s what. It’s a nice ceramic cup with a handle and everything. People don’t just get to take those home.”
“You’re right,” Miranda said, realizing what he meant. “Those cups are supposed to stay at the restaurant, so why did he take that one with him?”
“Exactly,” Kyle said, tugging at the collar of his Holmes-esque coat. “See what happens when you listen to your spirit guide?”
“Don’t even get me started,” she muttered to him. To Jack, she said, “You’re not just letting them leave, are you?”
The two uniformed officers seemed as bewildered by it as she was. Jack turned toward them, forming a little circle for them to talk in privately. He spread his hands helplessly.
“I don’t have any real reason to make them stay,” he explained. “It’s unusual, I admit, not to want to help the police in their investigation when someone you know just died. Unusual, but not criminal. If they want to go, they can go. Now that we know who Leon Peniston was married to, we can find Janice sometime tomorrow at their motel room and ask her anything we need to.”
“I understand that,” Miranda told him, “but…”
“Braydon Wise,” he said. “Yes, I know. It’s all right.”
One of the uniformed officers nodded in agreement. “We found his address earlier today after Detective Travis here asked us to start looking for him. I understand he factored into that murder case at the Blue Jay Bed and Breakfast?”
“Yes, he may have done, we're not certain if he is the same man,” Miranda said, trying to remember the voice of the man named Braydon on the tape recording. She wasn’t sure if the man on the recording was the same man that was just here, or not. The voice on the recording hadn’t been all that clear. "We really should interview them all tonight, Jack. Just to be sure."
“Miranda, seriously, it’s all right. Anything they can tell us tonight, they
can tell us tomorrow.” Jack reached over to take her hand. “Janice will probably be more willing to talk once the shock of her husband’s death wears off, too.”
“Jack,” she said in a rush, “you aren’t listening to me!”
Behind her she heard Kyle chuckling. “See? It’s no fun when no one will listen to you, is it?”
Taking her by the elbow, gently but firmly, Jack brought her back to stand next to their table, far enough that they wouldn’t be heard by the uniformed officers. He kept a smile on his face, but she could see irritation in his eyes. “Miranda. I trust your instincts, and your opinions, and your… you know, other senses. But,” he emphasized, “you can not talk to me like that in front of other officers. I know this case is personal, but you have to let me be the cop, okay? Now what in the world is so important?”
She glared at him. She couldn’t even pretend to put a smile on for him the way he was putting one on for her. How dare he scold her like she had just dropped in off the street to interrupt his oh-so-important police work? She really thought they were past that point in their relationship.
“Jack. If you would just let me explain?”
He sighed through his nose, obviously forcing himself to be patient. “Go ahead, Miranda. I’m listening.”
“Uh-huh. Then let me ask you this. Why did Braydon Wise leave with his coffee cup?”
“Yeah!” Kyle practically cheered. “Tell us that, you shockingly good-looking man. Hmm?”
“Kyle,” Miranda hissed. “Not helping.”
Jack didn’t even notice their little exchange. He had already whipped around to look at the table where the four—including the elusive Josh Bates—had been sitting. He noticed the one coffee cup missing and swore very eloquently under his breath.
Then he turned to her, and his smile was genuine this time. “I did it again, didn’t I? To you, I mean. I’m sorry, Miranda. Maybe we can work out some kind of hand signal when we need to talk about these things?”
“Or when you’re acting like the back end of a donkey? Sure. How about I slap you upside the back of your head?”
“Yeah,” he admitted. “That might work. You know I love you?”
“I know you do. I also know you’re a complete bonehead sometimes.”
“Well, I am a guy. So where did those three go?”
“Out the back door,” Kyle said. “I could go find them, maybe?”
Miranda agreed. “Yes, Kyle. That would be very helpful, thank you.”
“He’s going to go find them?” Jack asked as their ghostly detective companion zipped off through the restaurant and then literally through a wall.
“Yes. They went out the back door, apparently. Just like Josh Bates did.”
“I should send my officers after them, too. I guess I should have paid more attention to what they were doing and saying.” He took a step, and then stopped. “Wait a minute.”
Miranda could practically hear the wheels turning in his mind. “What? What is it?”
“Braydon Wise… he called us by name.”
“I know, that bothered me too.” She shrugged. “He explained it away by saying he likes my books. I don’t know whether I should believe him or not, but the compliment was nice.”
“Okay, fine,” he said. “But then how did he know my name? I never got around to saying who I was.”
Miranda felt her mouth drop open, again, as she realized he was right. “He was playing us. Both of us. Braydon Wise knew who we were right from the start. He’s involved in all of this. He must be the same Braydon from the article, Jack, he must be!”
“And he’s probably the Braydon on the recording too.” Jack was already moving for the back door of the diner. As he passed his two startled uniformed officers he quickly gave them orders. “You two. Go out the front and make sure nobody drives off. Those three need to be taken into custody.”
‘What’s the charge, Detective?” one of them asked.
“Stealing a coffee cup!”
With everyone in motion, Miranda found herself standing right in the middle of the diner, all by herself.
Which was when she realized, she had to pee.
“Perfect,” she mumbled to herself. “I’m in the middle of another murder mystery, and I have to tinkle.”
There was nothing for it, unfortunately, and it wasn’t like Jack needed her for anything at the moment. So she slipped around tables and booths to the back of the diner, opposite the kitchen, where there was a sign on a door with both a man and a woman stick figure. One bathroom served everyone in this place, apparently.
“How lovely,” she commented to herself.
The hinges squeaked as she pushed the door open. For a bathroom serving both men and women it actually wasn’t too bad. Two stalls, one urinal, and two sinks, under bright fluorescent lighting. The grout in the wall tiles was dingy, but Miranda had expected worse in a two-star place like this. She just wanted to relieve her bladder and then go and find Jack.
The first stall door was open, and she chose that one, her mind on everything that had happened so far.
She wasn’t even all the way into the stall yet when Kyle popped in through the ceiling. She just about peed her pants right where she stood.
“There you are!” he said. “Geez, leave a guy a note when you’re going to wander off, will you?”
“What are you doing in here!” she snapped, her heart still hammering in her chest. “This is the bathroom!”
“Well I was following Braydon outside, but he didn’t have the cup when I caught up to him. So I backtracked,” he explained, “and found it in the dumpster outside. Then I went to look for Braydon again only he’d driven off already. Jack and the cops came tearing out a moment later, but it wasn’t like I could tell them which way they had gone. Jack can’t see me, remember? So I came looking for you instead.”
He sounded so proud of himself. Here she stood, and five seconds later she would have had her pants down, but good old Kyle had found her anyway to tell her the bad guys had gotten away. “If only you could show yourself,” she mused. “This would all be so much easier.”
“Yeah, it would. Maybe we should get walkie talkies or something, so we can communicate to each other when stuff like this happens.”
Miranda rolled her eyes at him. A ghost with a walkie talkie. Sure. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”
Kyle was about to say something, when another voice answered instead.
“Fine, then. I guess you got me.”
Miranda recognized that voice. It was coming from the second stall down, and she couldn’t see who was in there with the door closed but she didn’t need to see his face to know who it was.
Slowly opening up the swinging door, Josh Bates stepped out, both hands raised up as he peered around the room. He was a short man, and a bit stocky, and under other circumstances she wouldn’t have been the least bit afraid of him if she’d met him on the street. Except now she knew he was a very bad person. Now she knew he was willing to fake his own death to avoid the police. Now she knew he had tried to kill Jack, and most likely had killed before.
Now, she knew he was mixed up in a mystery that could affect her entire life.
Even with his hands raised, she had every reason to fear Josh Bates.
Was he giving up? To her? She had to wonder why on Earth he would do that… but then she realized that he’d been listening in on her and Kyle. Only, he thought she was talking to him, because she couldn’t hear anything but her side of the conversation.
What are you doing in here! This is the bathroom!
If only you could show yourself. This would all be so much easier.
Don’t make this harder than it already is.
When you listened to it that way, it sure sounded like she was telling him to give himself up. Only, she hadn’t even known he was here.
Looking up sharply at Kyle, just for a moment, she conveyed to him her vast disappointment. He’d told her that Josh Bates had run ou
t the back door when the waitress tipped him and his friends off.
“Well,” he complained, gesturing wildly with his hands, “I thought he did go out the back! I mean, come on, the back door is just down the hallway from here. How was I supposed to know?”
Some spirit guide, Miranda thought to herself. He’d led her right into the hands of a man who had obvious evil intent toward her and Jack both. For all she knew, he was the one who had broken into Ragged Rest and gone through her things. Considering his interest in her aunt, and the fact that the only things missing were pages from the police investigation into Connie’s disappearance, it made sense.
In fact, now she was sure of it.
“You broke into my house,” she challenged him, “didn’t you?”
Instead of answering he smirked. Looking all around the bathroom again, he lowered his hands. One of them went up under his hoodie.
He shot Jack, Miranda reminded herself. He has a gun!
“You’re all alone,” he chuckled. “Hard to believe it was you who came looking for me this time. Don’t move, Miranda Wylder.”
“Hold on, now,” she said to him, hoping that she could stall him and whatever he had planned for her. “Josh, just wait. Did you mean any of what you told me before? The things you said about my Aunt Connie. Did you mean any of them?”
His expression seemed far away as he nodded slowly, and when he spoke it was like he’d never even heard her question.
“He’s involved… He must be.” His hands had stalled, one still under his hoodie. Miranda’s eyes were focused there even as her mind tried to wrap itself around whatever Bates was trying to tell her. “And what if he is involved?” Josh Bates went on, although his voice had lowered considerably, and Miranda could hardly hear him.
“Involved in what?” Miranda asked him. “Who are we talking about?”
The man’s eyes were unfocused, and distant. “If it’s him, then there’s no getting out of it for him or for me. There’s just no getting out of this. I need to tell you.”
“Tell me what? Who do you need to tell me about?”
This time he did look directly at her. “I’m talking about Braydon Wise. The man, the myth, the center of the whole entire cyclone.”