A Cup of Death

by K. J. Emrick

  As she watched, he sank down to sit on the ground, folding himself up cross legged and leaning his elbows on his knees. “Not quite like a rag doll, Miranda. That… that took a lot out of me.”

  He had misjudged where the ground was, and actually sunk down nearly to his hip. What really worried Miranda was how washed out he looked. It was the only way she could think to describe him. It was as if he were panting, sweating, strained from the exertion of lifting her—ahem—sixty-some-odd kilogram body up off the ground to put it down just a few short yards away. His color had faded, too. He was less blue than he should have been. Duller. Darker.

  “Kyle, are you okay?”

  He nodded, looking down at the ground as he did. “Just give me a minute.”

  She didn’t have a choice. There were people rushing up to her now, asking her the same question that she had asked Kyle. Are you okay, are you okay? Miranda assured them that she was. She put on a smile and dusted off her hands and knees again. That was just an accident, she was sure it was nothing more than that. Crazy day, right?

  Some of the people talking to her she knew, at least in passing, but most of them were strangers. Tourists, probably. Those who knew she was a mystery novelist would put this all over social media as soon as they got home, no doubt, and soon enough she would be a news item on the internet. Famed author narrowly escapes death.

  What she didn’t need was for any of those stories to include a mention of her talking to herself, or to people who weren’t there. Kyle and she could talk when everyone had cleared out, and when there weren’t so many curious and concerned onlookers around.

  After a few more photographs were taken with cameras on their mobile phones, the crowd cleared away from her and she could think again.

  That car hadn’t accidentally jumped the curb, no matter what she was telling everyone. That had been a purposeful attempt on her life. That had been someone in her home town, trying to kill her. Now, didn’t that just lead to all sorts of neat questions?

  Figuring out why someone would want to kill her was easy. She had helped Jack start to put the pieces together of this whole mystery they currently found themselves wrapped into. They had Braydon Wise in custody. Josh Bates had started to talk to them and tell them what was going on, and now he was dead. Poisoned. That was why he’d been acting so strangely yesterday, and why he was dead today.

  That was why someone wanted her dead today, too.

  So yes, the why was easy. The question she couldn’t put a quick answer to was… who wanted her dead? Not Josh Bates. He’d tried to kill Jack before, but now he was dead. Not Braydon Wise, either. He’d tried to kill her earlier today, but he was in custody, chained to a table. It couldn’t be either of them. That left her with only two possibilities.

  Janice Peniston, or Hannah Smith.

  Miranda immediately wrote off Hannah. She had come to Jack’s house this morning, and Miranda had been all alone at the time—except for Kyle, of course. Still, to someone without psychic abilities it would have seemed like Miranda was there by herself, and an easy target. If Hannah had wanted to kill her for her meddling she could have done it right then and there. Of course, killing someone face to face can be a lot harder than doing it from behind a steering wheel. Or so the lead character in one of her books had said.

  So, Janice seemed the most likely suspect. She was not the blonde ditz that she wanted everyone to think she was. They knew that from listening in on her conversation with Braydon at the Slumber Way Motel. She had been throwing around her own accusations about Braydon being a killer, but what if that had just been a smokescreen? What if she was the one behind all of this. Wow. There was a thought. If they were going to eliminate her as the killer so they could prove it had been Braydon, they were going to have their work cut out for them now.

  Actually… as much as she hated to admit it, there was one other person who might have been behind that wheel. Maybe. But if she did admit this, then she would have to admit that Jack had been right, for reasons other than just being jealous.

  Jimmy Jones had just been in town. Their new neighbor had bumped into her at the police station, in fact. Almost as if he’d been waiting for her. His reason for being there—that he was getting a parking permit—did seem a little thin to Miranda considering everything else that was going on. She grimaced, because now she was sounding just like Jack and Kyle. Could Jimmy Jones have been lying in wait for her to leave the station, so he could run her down with a car?

  But… why? She hardly knew the man. He was just a fan.

  And it wasn’t like celebrities had ever been killed by an obsessed fan before.

  Miranda grimaced at her own deadly sarcasm. Not that she considered herself a celebrity, but she knew full well that there had been fanatic admirers who killed the object of their devotion before. Rebecca Schaeffer. Selena. Even John Lennon. Was Jones one of those types?

  “What’s got you all twisted around?” Kyle asked her, once again standing up beside her and sounding chipper as ever. “You look deep in thought. Is it just because of my amazing feat of heroism? That was pretty spectacular, wasn’t it?”

  “Glad to see you’re feeling better,” Miranda told him. She decided she would be less conspicuous if she started walking again, so she started off down the sidewalk toward the coffee house. “What was that, Kyle? How did you do that?”

  “I think the phrase you are looking for,” he said, “is thank you.”

  She sighed. He was right. “Yes, Kyle. Thank you. That was amazing, and I will love you forever because of it.”

  “Darned straight you will.”

  “But how?” she insisted. “How did you do it?”

  “It’s you and me,” he answered, as if that explained everything. When it didn’t, he added, “I’m your spirit guide, Miranda. I came back specifically for you. We’ve always had a special connection but now that I’m back, as your guide, it’s really strong. You’re the only one who can really feel me. Whenever I use my ghostly powers for you, I’m like Superman.”

  “You would look good in a cape.”

  “Very funny.”

  “What? Tell me you’ve never worn a cape.”

  He very carefully looked away from her. “Once, but that guy was very special and maybe the photos were embarrassing but it was so worth it.”

  That was probably more than she had ever really needed to know about Kyle’s activities back when he’d been alive. Time to change the subject. “I was thinking about who might have wanted to kill me, Kyle, but I have to say that stuff about your ghostly powers is very interesting.”

  “Yes, me too. I think that’s where my, ahem, super scream came from earlier. I was protecting you and it just kind of spilled out of me.”

  “Hmm. You’ll have to tell me more. After we figure out who’s killing people in Moonlight Bay, that is.”

  “Well,” Kyle said, pointing through the front window of the coffee house. “We could always ask that guy.”

  “What guy?”

  Even as Miranda was asking it she turned and followed the direction Kyle was indicating. It took her a minute to recognize the hazy blue ghost at the table in the corner. When she did, she couldn’t believe it.

  Josh Bates was sitting at the coffee house, waiting for her.

  Chapter 12

  “Are you all right?” the waitress asked her as soon as Miranda stepped inside. The little bell over the door hadn’t even finished ringing when the young woman in her green apron came rushing over. “We saw everything from in here.”

  “Did you?” Miranda cringed inside. Wonderful. Now she was certain to end up plastered all over the internet. “Um, yes. I’m fine. That was just an accident. Crazy tourist drivers. Probably from the overseas, am I right?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she heard Josh Bates saying. She knew his voice, even from beyond the grave. “You know that wasn’t accidental.”

  “Uh, Miranda?” Kyle said. “Maybe we should go talk with our favorite dead
tour boat captain. You know how fickle ghosts are. Here one day, gone the next. Always moving on before you want them to. Can’t trust them.”

  She didn’t bother trying to point out the hypocrisy in that. Instead she thanked the waitress again and ordered a flat white to be brought to her table. Then she went and sat down across from Josh Bates.

  It was spooky to see him this way. Every ghost was a little spooky, to be sure, but it was worse somehow with Bates. To see this man who sitting here now when she knew he was so intimately, if mysteriously, connected to her aunt, and who was connected to so many bad things, it just set her teeth on edge.

  She cleared her throat. “What are you doing here, Josh?”

  “I’m dead,” Bates said to her.

  “No kidding,” Kyle retorted. “Just accept it, and tell us who did it, will you?”

  Bates blinked up at Kyle, as if he hadn’t even noticed another ghost floating there. “You’re dead, too.”

  Kyle clucked his tongue. “Oh yeah. This guy’s going to be a real fountain of information. A real winner.”

  “Shh, Kyle,” Miranda whispered. She was trying to do her best to have a conversation with two ghosts and not look like she’d suffered a concussion out there on the sidewalk, or just gone plain crazy. “Josh, can you tell us who killed you?”

  He looked her straight in the eyes, a cold and distant stare. “I’m sinking.”

  Miranda blinked at him. Did he even hear her? “Josh, I need you to tell me about your death. Who killed you? Who poisoned you?”

  “I’m sinking,” he repeated. “She sank so fast. So fast. So fast...”

  “Yup,” Kyle sighed. “He’s lost it. Getting killed can do that to a guy. Not me, of course. I mean other ghosts.”

  “No, no,” Miranda said, half standing up from her chair. “Look, he’s really sinking.”

  She couldn’t believe it, but right before her eyes, Josh Bates was dropping down, down, down. A little bit at a time, he was disappearing behind the other side of the table.

  Sinking.

  Sink.

  She reached out for him, as if she could hold him here in this room but of course, she couldn’t. Every ghost made it from this plane of existence to the next one in their own way. Sometimes they moved over instantly. Other times they hung on for months, even years. Sometimes they disappeared in a flash of light. Every time it was different.

  This time, Josh Bates sank through his chair, and through the floor, and completely out of the world of the living.

  “See?” Kyle said in a huff. “Lots of information from that one.”

  Miranda wasn’t so sure. There was a message in what had just happened. If only she could figure it out.

  She sank so fast.

  “Are you okay?” the waitress asked, coming to the table and finding Miranda standing like that. “Did you get hurt out there when that car almost hit you?”

  “No, I’m fine,” Miranda said in a rush. “Um. Is that my coffee?”

  “Yes. Here you go. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  Was she? There was something right in front of her, something in what Josh Bates had said, that she was missing. Sinking. That was what he said. He was sinking. Sinking.

  Sink.

  That was also what he’d said in the cell, according to Jack, right before he died. It must be important somehow for this one-time tour boat captain to use the last of his time on Earth to mention it.

  Oh!

  Now she understood. At least, she thought she did.

  If she was right…

  With a smile, she turned back to the waitress. “Yes,” she said, “I’m fine. Thank you for the drink.”

  She took her cup of flat white from the woman and sat down again, waiting for her to leave. As soon as she did, Kyle sat down next to her and eagerly folded his hands on the table. “I know that look, Miranda Wylder. You know something. What is it?”

  She took a sip from the cup and smiled. Pieces began fitting together in her mind. She wasn’t sure what it added up to yet, but the more she thought about it, the more it made sense.

  “I tell you what,” she said to Kyle. “What we need to do now is find that car. The red one from out on the street just now.”

  “Know what I think? I think we should go and tell Jack what happened.”

  “Oh, really?” she said, hiding her mouth behind her cup so no one would see her speaking. “Since when do you ever want me to get Jack’s help? Aren’t you my spirit guide?”

  “Yes, and as your spirit guide I think you need Jack.”

  “Heh. In this case, I agree with you.”

  “Good. So we’ll go and get Jack?”

  “No need,” she said cheerfully. “He was going to meet us here, remember? Look, here he is.”

  He was coming into the coffee house when Kyle turned to look. Miranda could see the expression on his face from here as he waved the waitress away. He was not in a good mood.

  “I take it things didn’t go well with the Sergeant?” Miranda said as he sat down, thankfully in a different chair than Kyle. “What did he say?”

  “Nothing I need to repeat,” was Jack’s answer. “He’s never been a very open-minded man. Sometimes, he’s downright ignorant, if I’m being honest. That doesn’t matter right now. Why don’t you tell me about what happened to you instead? From what I’m hearing, there was some excitement out on the street after you left the station. Something to do with a car jumping the curb?”

  She raised one cryptic eyebrow. “And you just assumed that had something to do with me?”

  “Naturally. There’s no way stuff like that happens when you’re standing right there, without you being involved.”

  “Ah. You know me that well, do you?”

  At that, he finally smiled. “Yes, I do. Now spill it.”

  She told him everything, and what she suspected it meant. When she got to the part about what Josh Bates’ ghost had said he listened with great interest.

  “You know, you might be right. When you put it together like that it might just solve the whole mystery of your aunt’s disappearance. ‘Sink.’ Huh. Can’t believe I missed it. All these years wondering if your Aunt Connie was dead or if she just left your family behind without a word, and now you might know what really happened.”

  “Maybe,” she agreed. “I mean, it’s all just guess work and assumptions. When we have the time to go and look then we’ll know for certain.”

  “Well,” Kyle said, “I wish someone would explain it to me right now. I have no idea what either of you are talking about.”

  “Later, Kyle,” Miranda told him. “My aunt’s disappearance has been waiting all of these years. It can wait for another day or two. If we’ve figured it out that’s wonderful but right now…”

  “We need to solve Leon Peniston’s murder,” Jack finished for her. “I agree. It’s going to take the lab some time to analyze the blood sample from Bates to check for poison. If they match the substance in his system to the same poison Leon Peniston had in his, then we’ll have confirmation it’s the same killer. Until then…”

  “We need to come at this sideways,” she finished for him.

  “Ah, you two are so cute,” Kyle chirped. “Finishing each other’s thoughts like that? It’s like you’re two hearts, living in just one mind.”

  “Yes, we are,” Miranda agreed, smiling warmly at Jack Travis, the man she loved. “So. Back to our original plan, then? To go find Hannah Smith?”

  “Right.” Just as he was about to stand up, his mobile rang. “Hold that thought.”

  Miranda and Kyle exchanged a glance as they listened to Jack’s side of the conversation. Something had him excited.

  When he swiped to end the call, he practically pushed his chair over getting up from the table. “Come on,” he said to Miranda. “Bring Kyle.”

  “Hey,” their ghostly friend snapped. “I’m not a lapdog, mister. ‘Bring Kyle.’ It’s not like she’s got me on a leash!”

  Hurried
ly dropping some money on the table to cover the cost of her drink, Miranda followed Jack out the door. She found him on the sidewalk, looking up the street. “Jack, what’s going on?”

  “I’m just deciding if it would be quicker to walk there, or if we should head back to the station for one of our cars.”

  “Walk where?” she asked him.

  Apparently deciding that going back for their cars wasn’t worth it, he took her hand and started them off at a brisk pace. “That call,” he explained, “was from one of the guys at the office. They found the car.”

  “The car… you mean the red one that just tried to run me over? That car?”

  “Yup,” he said, with a little twist of a smile. “Thankfully one of the people who saw what happened to you got a better description of it for us than just ‘red.’ It was enough for the patrols to find it a couple of streets over.”

  Miranda felt a mix of relief and anxiety when she heard that the vehicle had been located. They were rushing towards it now. What would they find?

  “But why were they even looking for it?” she asked, putting her thoughts into words. “Nobody was hurt, and I told everyone it was an accident.”

  “Which it wasn’t,” Kyle added.

  “Right,” Miranda agreed. “Which it wasn’t, but still. I didn’t report it as an attempt on my life. Why were the officers looking for the car?”

  “Because I told them to,” he said matter-of-factly. “Like I said, Miranda, once I heard there was something like that happening right next to the same coffee house where I sent you to wait, I knew there was no way you weren’t involved. That was just a no brainer. So, I had my guys do a quick look around the downtown section of Moonlight Bay, and… voila.”

  They were down two blocks and looking at a side street now. Two of Moonlight Bay’s patrol cars had both ends blocked off, and it didn’t take Miranda long to realize why. Parked halfway down, on the left, was the same red car that had tried to run her down.

  “Well, well, well,” Kyle said. “Score one for the good guys.”

  Jack took a quick look around the scene before going up to the uniformed cops. “Hey guys. What do we have?”