Murder Runs Deep

by K. J. Emrick

  The curious inhabitants of the Wells household were also playing on her mind, Leah Robinson-Wells most particularly. Being heartless didn’t make her the killer, but it certainly didn’t clear her, either. Obviously her husband, Paul, had known Maisie Fraser quite well. They’d been married, once upon a time, and he was the only one of the bunch who had been upset to know of her passing.

  Anyway, while she was waiting for Kyle, and waiting for Jack to wake up, she supposed she should do some of her own work. She was falling behind with her current book. The characters were arguing with her, and the scene she was stuck on was going nowhere. It wouldn’t be quite so hard if the scene wasn’t in the middle of the story. It seemed that every time she was just a few lines in, she needed to erase everything she’d done for the past few days and start over.

  “Maybe,” she said to herself, “I should lock myself in the closet while I’m writing. I hear that works wonders for some authors.”

  Then again, with her luck a ghost would pop in on her while she was squeezed in with the shoes and her summer dresses and ask for her help, thinking she was a captive audience.

  Chuckling at that thought, she sat down at the kitchen table with her laptop. The pages with all of her notes and thoughts written in the margin were beside her and she leafed through a few until ideas began to flow. Her fingers tapped over the keys as she wrote a few more lines of a conversation between the main characters, hearing it play out in her head as she went. Just as she lost track of it again, her phone buzzed. She had a text message.

  Hi, it’s me. I’m so sorry that I didn’t make it back last night. It was a long night and I haven’t been home yet. I hope you’re okay? Jack xx

  Miranda smiled. Jack always put kisses at the end of his text messages these days. Romance, in the digital age.

  I knew you’d be working, she replied. No worries. Seems like a bit of a strange case. Miranda xx

  You could say that. Do what you can to keep out of it, however hard that might be for someone like you. Jack finished that particular text message with a smiley face.

  Ha, ha, she thought to herself.

  Another text came from him almost immediately. Going back to my place to get some rest. Love you. xx.

  Miranda leaned back in her chair and gazed out the back windows, across the lawn and down onto the beach, thinking nice thoughts about how wonderful it would be to have Jack with her here right now. In the middle of those thoughts she gasped as she saw a figure walking on the beach. Josh Bates, in yet another checkered shirt.

  As she was wondering what to do, Butter came running in and jumped up against the back door, his long golden hairs shaking as he growled and whined, his eyes riveted down toward the beach where Bates stood.

  Something about the dog’s reaction made the hair on the back of Miranda’s neck stand up. Between her own instincts and her dog’s unease, she knew that Bates being here again couldn’t be merely a coincidence.

  Nothing is coincidence.

  She picked up her phone and sent another message to Jack.

  Josh Bates is down on the beach staring up at the house. He’s creeping me out a bit. It was just a moment before he texted back.

  Are you sure he’s staring at the house?

  Miranda went over and looked over Butter’s head for a better view. Bates had stopped walking and he was standing, still as a statue, staring up at Ragged Rest.

  Almost as if he could see her.

  Yes, I’m certain. Did your people interview him last night? Miranda began racing around the house to make sure all the doors and windows were locked. She didn’t know what he was doing out there but most people who had honest intentions didn’t stand and stare at you. They came up to the door and knocked.

  I’m on my way, was Jack’s simple response. He didn’t answer her about interviewing Bates, but that didn’t concern her. She just wanted the man gone, or wanted him to announce himself and explain his actions.

  “Hey, what’s up?” Kyle appeared without warning as she was watching Josh Bates out the window again.

  “Kyle!” Miranda startled, putting a hand over her heart to keep it from beating out of her chest. “Don’t do that! Where have you been? You were supposed to come back right after breakfast!”

  “It is right after breakfast,” he said, pointing to the clock on the wall. “I figured you’d just be finishing a slice of cantaloupe right now. Or a donut, if you aren’t watching your weight anymore. Why, what’s wrong? Miss me?”

  “It’s Josh Bates again. He’s— Hey, what’s that crack about my weight?”

  “Nothing,” he answered innocently. “So what about Bates?”

  “He’s down there, is what. He’s on the beach just looking up here at Ragged Rest.”

  Kyle stared at her dubiously.

  “Seriously, he’s watching this place. Look.”

  He did, and Butter turned his nose up to whine at him as if he was asking for his help. There was Bates, just like she’d said.

  Hastily, and without really knowing why, Miranda closed the blinds of all the windows. The only one that was still open was the one in the back door.

  “Get Jack here,” Kyle suggested, floating closer.

  “He’s already on his way, Kyle. That was the first thing I did. I would’ve called you too, if ghosts had cellphones.”

  “Reception in the hereafter is lousy. Miranda, are you really afraid of this Josh Bates character?”

  “There’s something wrong about this guy, Kyle. I don’t know if I’m afraid of him, per se, or if I’m just picking up on something through my extra senses. Or, maybe it’s just the fact that he was asking about Aunt Connie that has me unsettled.” She shrugged. “There’s something not right. I know that.”

  “I agree. Tell you what. I’ll go down there and take a look,” Kyle said. “Just to make sure he isn’t plotting to burn the place down or anything.”

  “What did you have to go and say that for? Now I really am a bag of nerves.” Miranda shook her head incredulously. Having Kyle as a spirit guide was like having her own personal black cloud. “Look, just go and see what he’s doing.”

  “Sit tight, I’ll be right back.”

  He floated through the wall and outside. When he was gone, and with Jack still yet to arrive, Miranda began to pace up and down the kitchen. Butter watched her for a few moments, and then licked his lips and laid down in the corner with his tail twitching furtively.

  Miranda shuddered again and realized that the thing which made her feel most uneasy about Josh Bates was this connection he seemed to have with her Aunt Connie. She wondered if they had actually been friends, or if he ever knew her at all. Could this all be some sort of scam on his part?

  In the next moment, Kyle returned. “Well, he doesn’t have any weapons. No can of gas or Molotov cocktails or anything like that.” He shrugged. “He’s just standing there, watching.”

  “Well, that’s a newsflash, now isn’t it? I figured that much out by looking through the window!”

  “Hey, I’m just trying to help,” Kyle said defensively, spreading his hands wide.

  “I know, I know,” Miranda sighed, easing her tone. “I guess this is just getting to me more than it should. Maybe I should just go down there myself and ask him what he wants.”

  “Are you crazy?” Kyle asked her. “Don’t be ridiculous. That man is up to something and you can’t just walk up to him and ask him to tea. Besides. He’s gone.”

  “Gone?” Miranda asked, her voice rising again. “Kyle, you don’t think you could have started with that bit of information?”

  “Well, so-o-rry. I thought the idea that he was unarmed was more important.” He folded himself down into a chair at the table as if his ghostly behind were actually sitting in it, and crossed his legs. “Anyway, he walked off the beach nearly as soon as I got there. He had that little dinghy of his at the shoreline. He’s gone.”

  “You know, if you were a proper ghost you could have scared him off so he w
ouldn’t come back.”

  “Oh, so that’s what you think of me, is it?” he asked, his tone more than a little offended. “I’m just your personal Casper, is that it?”

  “Well, obviously not, because all you can do is watch people and annoy me!”

  He floated up out of the chair, and very close to her, his gaze locking with hers. “And,” he reminded her, “I can move pencils. Don’t you forget about that.”

  They stood there, nose to nose, for the space of several seconds. Then they burst out laughing together.

  “Oh, Kyle,” she said to him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say you should…”

  “It’s all right,” he said over her apology. “You were upset. I thought that line about Casper would make you laugh. Looks like I figured right.”

  “I’m glad you’re back,” she told him. “I really am.”

  His smile slipped when she said that, and she wasn’t sure why, but he looked suddenly very sad.

  They both heard the front door being thrown open with a loud thud as it struck against the inside wall, and then Jack was calling her name. “He must have used his key,” she said, thinking out loud. “I knew it was a good idea to give him one.”

  “Humph,” Kyle said. “You never gave me a key.”

  “Kyle, you’re a ghost. You don’t need a key.”

  “Oh,” he said, brightening a little. “Right.”

  “Miranda!” Jack called again. “Where are you?”

  “We’re in here,” she called back to him. “Kyle’s with me.”

  From his place on the floor, Butter barked at her.

  “And Butter, too,” she amended.

  He came racing in a split second later, scooping her into his arms. “I’m here. Where is he? Is he still out there?”

  “No,” Kyle said. “You’re a bit late, hero.”

  Miranda gave him a look. “He’s gone. Kyle went out to check for me. He was just standing there, Jack. I didn’t know what to do.”

  “Gone?” he asked, looking around the room, trying to focus on where Kyle might be standing. “Where did he go? Did Kyle see where he went?”

  Kyle kept moving away from anywhere Jack looked, amusing himself with his little game. Miranda ignored him.

  “Apparently he left in a boat,” she answered him. “He’ll be long gone now.”

  “Well, that’s good, I suppose.” He stopped trying to find Kyle and just spoke to the room instead. “Thanks for looking out for her.”

  Kyle nodded enthusiastically, puffing up with pride at the rare compliment from Jack. Miranda stifled a giggle at her friend’s reaction. He deserved to be told he’d done good. He most certainly had.

  “It’s over now,” Miranda said, which apparently it was. “I’m sorry I panicked so badly. You should be at home in bed, fast asleep.”

  Reminded of how tired he was, Jack hid a yawn behind his cupped hand. “Not until you tell me everything. I can sleep later. The guys at the office are handling the follow up with the investigation. The sarge is there now. They won’t need me for a few hours. Come on. Let’s go sit in the kitchen and talk.”

  “Coffee?” Miranda suggested.

  “Please. Strong, and lots of it.”

  “One good thing about being a ghost,” Kyle offered as they all made their way down the hallway. “There’s no need for sleep.”

  “You can’t drink coffee though,” Miranda teased.

  “Yeah.” Kyle’s expression fell. “There’s that.”

  Miranda wondered, as she had last night, where exactly Kyle went while she was sleeping. Did he just pop out of this reality, like an imaginary friend, until she woke up again? Or did he go back to the hereafter, perhaps? Maybe he had other people he looked in on as a spirit guide.

  She hoped not. She rather liked the idea of him being back on Earth just for her.

  At the kitchen table, with cups of coffee for both of them, Jack sat across from Miranda. “So, how long was Bates staring up at the house?”

  “I don’t know,” she shrugged. “The thing is, Deirdre Sims told me last night that she saw him down on the beach, even before we got home, just walking back and forth. So why was he there for so long before running up here to ask for help? Why the subterfuge?”

  “Wait, when did you talk to Deirdre?”

  “Um. After I let you on the beach,” Miranda said, wanting to divert the conversation away from any talk about her and Kyle going out snooping at the Wells’ place. At least for now. “Anyway, this morning I was getting on with some work and, when I looked up, I saw him down there looking back at me.”

  “You’re sure he was looking at you?”

  “It sure seemed that way.”

  “Hmm,” Jack mused thoughtfully. “Miranda, do you think there’s any reason that Josh Bates would want to hurt you? I remember what you told me yesterday, about what he said, but was there anything more to it?”

  “No, not really. I mean, yes, but it can’t have any bearing on Maisie Fraser’s death.”

  “I’m not worried about that right now. I’m worried about you.”

  “I second that,” Kyle said. “Tell him, Miranda.”

  Jack was still looking at her, waiting for an answer. She knew there was no reason not to tell him the rest.

  “Well, I mean, he asked if I was related to Constance Cleary.”

  “That’s your aunt, right? Your mother’s sister?”

  He got serious boyfriend points in her book for remembering that. “Yes, she was my aunt. Is. She is my aunt.”

  “Is,” Jack pressed, “or was?”

  “It’s complicated. I told you she just up and left, right? Well, it’s been years, Jack. I doubt even Uncle Horatio knows where she is, or if she’s still alive.”

  “That must be an awful thing, not knowing.”

  “It’s okay. Really, it is. I never knew her. It’s like all the people we went to high school with. We don’t know where they are, and it really doesn’t affect us other than wondering about them now and again. It’s like that with Connie. She’s somewhere, and not having her in my life doesn’t bother me. To be honest, when Josh Bates mentioned her to me that was the first time I’d thought about Connie in ages.”

  “And what did he say about her?”

  “It’s silly, I guess. He thought I might be her daughter, because I look so much like her. Apparently. Anyway, I told him she was my aunt and he went quiet for a bit.”

  “And then?”

  “And then,” Miranda continued for him, “he came right out with it. He asked me if I was the same as my aunt. If I had the same gifts.”

  “Gifts?” Jack blew on his coffee to cool it. “Meaning, I suppose, your psychic abilities?”

  “No, dummy,” Kyle interjected. “Her Christmas gifts. Of course her psychic gifts. Listen, Miranda, are we sure he’s a detective?”

  “Shush, Kyle. Yes, Jack, he meant those gifts. I never even knew that Connie was a psychic. It was never talked about. At least, not when I was around.”

  A long sip of his coffee later, Jack nodded. “So what did you say?”

  “I said I didn’t know what he meant. I didn’t want to get into it with him. He’s a stranger, after all, and whether he actually knew Connie or not remains to be seen as far as I’m concerned. That’s not the important bit, though. After he asked me if I was like Connie, he said that if I was the same as my aunt then I could probably help him with something.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t ask. I just got away from him as fast as I could. Did anyone interview him last night? Get his side of the story about Maisie Fraser’s death?”

  “Yes, we have his statement. It’s pretty basic.” He gulped more of his coffee, and even then Miranda could see the bleary look of sleep in his eyes. “He said he was piloting his boat along the shore and in the moonlight he saw something that might have been a pile of clothes. He anchored his boat, and rowed in to investigate, because sometimes people toss away decent stu
ff on the beach and it’s just there for the claiming. That’s when he found the body.”

  “That’s all?” Miranda asked.

  “Sure. There was no reason to question anything he was saying. Everything in his background checked out as far as we could tell. Although, now that we have a witness who says he was there longer than he should have been, I suppose we’ll have to interview him again.”

  “Good. I want to know his real story.”

  “Me too,” he agreed. “Tell you what. Until we do, why don’t you come and stay with me for a while? I’m not saying this guy is a danger, but if he’s giving you the creeps, maybe it would be for the best.”

  “I second that,” Kyle said again, seeming to be very agreeable with Jack today. “Change of scenery. Do us all some good.”

  “No,” she said to both of them. “I’m all right here. It’s full daylight outside. I doubt that whatever Josh Bates is up to he’s going to try anything now. Besides, you need to get some sleep, Jack.”

  “I could sleep right here…” he suggested, and in those words Miranda heard the faint suggestion of him doing something else in her bedroom. Something that didn’t involve getting any rest.

  “That sounds like a good compromise,” she told him, with a little smile. “But you’re going to sleep, hear me? You had a long night.”

  He stood up, and stretched, his coffee empty. “Sounds to me like you did, too. I guess I should have figured you were going to investigate this no matter what I said. I’m just glad you didn’t do anything crazy like go to the house above the beach, or anything.”

  Kyle rolled his eyes. “Yeah. That’d sure be crazy, wouldn’t it?”

  Miranda very carefully avoided looking his direction.

  Whether Jack had guessed what she was up to or not, he really had her best interests at heart. “Just stay away from it from here on out, okay? Let me get a few hours, then I’ll go into the office and tell them about Bates.”