A Haunting of Ghosts

by Edward Kendrick

  “I’d like your permission to send out one of our people to check it for gunshot residue,” Mike said. “Before you get upset, I’ll be doing that with the cars of the other people I talk to, if theirs match the description the witness gave us.”

  Olive scowled, asking, “Do I have a choice?”

  “Honestly, not really, but think of it this way. No residue and you’ll be in the clear.”

  Oliver looked as if he was going to protest, shook his head, and replied, “What the hell, send them out.”

  Mike made the call and told Oliver someone would be there within twenty minutes.

  He knew, even if Oliver had washed his car after the shooting, presuming it was him, he wouldn’t have been able to get rid of all the trace evidence that indicated a gun had been fired out of the driver’s side window.

  He thanked Oliver for talking with him and left, heading across town to the realty company where Mr. Ridley worked as one of the agents. He decided this was his lucky day because Ridley was there and available to talk to him.

  He used the same ploy he had with Mr. Oliver—that a witness to a murder the previous evening had been able to tell the police part of the license plate number on the killer’s car.

  “Damn it,” Ridley said. “Talk about déjà vu.” When Mike asked what he meant, even though he already knew, Ridley said, “I was at the scene of a murder a few years ago. A car crashed into a tree, I checked to see if the driver, a girl, needed help. She had a bullet hole in her head. I panicked and left. The police were able to find me because someone got part of my license number.”

  “I can see why you think that, then. In this case, I’m talking to anyone whose license plate has the numbers we’re looking for. For starters, I need to know where you were when the killing happened.”

  “What time was that?” Ridley asked, his gaze dropping to the appointment book on one corner of his desk.

  “Approximately nine-thirty last night.”

  “Okay. I was on my way home from a showing.”

  “You can verify that?”

  Opening the appointment book, Ridley showed him the entry for Tuesday evening, which said he was meeting a home owner and an interested buyer at seven. “I can give you their names and phone numbers. They’ll verify I was with them until just after nine.”

  “If you would, please. Then I’d like to take a look at your car.”

  Ridley wrote down the information then took Mike to the lot next door to the realty company. His medium blue car was spotlessly clean, as if he’d washed it earlier in the day.

  When Mike asked, he said that he had. “We have to make a proper impression on the people we deal with. A dirty car doesn’t cut it.”

  “Understandable. Nonetheless, I’m going to have one of my people come out to run a test on it for gunshot residue. I’m doing that with every car on my list that matches the description of the one involved in the shooting.”

  “No problem. They won’t find anything because I didn’t do it.”

  Mike called, and then told Ridley the forensic investigator would be there within half an hour.

  Ridley nodded. “I’ll hope it doesn’t take long. I have an appointment in forty-five minutes.”

  “It won’t,” Mike promised. He thanked Ridley for his time and left, returning to the station. The first thing he did was get in touch with the two people Ridley had been with the night of Van and Gene’s deaths. Both the homeowner and the perspective buyer confirmed that the three of them had been at the house from before seven until approximately nine P.M.

  After taking care of a few details on other cases he was dealing with, he set to work looking for information on the last suspect, Dave Adams, who had moved to Florida six months after Irene’s murder, taking their son with him. He ran the phone number listed in Van and Gene’s files, which gave him the man’s last known address. When he called, he was sent to voicemail so he left a message asking Mr. Adams to return his call. To his surprise, Adams did, ten minutes later.

  As soon as Mike answered, identifying himself, Adams asked, “Why do you want to talk to me? If it’s about my ex’s murder, that’s old history. You guys screwed up.” He tempered his obvious anger, adding, “Unless you’re calling to let me know you finally arrested Jim Oliver.”

  “No, we haven’t. What makes you think he’s the one who killed her?”

  “The bastard was stalking her. That should be in your files. Or did they get tossed because you guys didn’t do your job?”

  Mike resisted snapping at him, saying calmly, “I have the files in front of me. The detective who handled her case noted that, but like you, Mr. Oliver had an alibi for the time of her murder.”

  “Probably bribed some of his mechanic buddies with a couple of beers to back up his story.”

  “I gather he’s not your favorite person.”

  “Fuck, no,” Adams replied. “Yeah, Irene and I had our problems, but that didn’t give him any right to try to step in.”

  “From what it says here, you and she obviously hadn’t been together for quite a while, since you were trying to gain custody of your son and he was a year old at the time.”

  “Shared custody,” Adams said. “Yeah, we’d make up and then break up again. When she was pissed at me she wouldn’t let me in the house to see him so I figured I’d go the legal route.” He paused for a moment. “Then she started dating that bastard. When she dropped him, he began harassing her. You know he’s the one who killed her. He had to be because it sure wasn’t me.”

  “I have a couple of questions pertaining to another case I’m working. Were you aware that someone was going to write a story about Irene’s murder?”

  After a long moment of silence, Adams replied, “I got a phone call from a man named Ackton, I think, sometime last week. Since I didn’t know who he was, I let it go to voicemail. I always do that, to avoid telemarketers and robocalls. Same with my email. Anyway, he left a message saying he was researching her murder and he wanted to talk with me. There was no way in hell I was going to go through it all again with some stranger, so I didn’t return his call.”

  “Understandable. Another question. Have you returned here any time within the last two weeks?”

  “No. Why would I?”

  “Perhaps because Irene’s mother lives here. She is your son’s grandmother so I wondered if you’d brought him out here to visit her.”

  “That b…that woman hates me. She said if I’d married Irene she’d still be alive. Maybe she’s right, but I didn’t. Irene didn’t want to get married, even after she got pregnant. So, no, I haven’t been back since I left ten years ago.”

  “All right. Thank you for talking with me.”

  “May I ask who got murdered this time? I’m presuming it was murder since you’re a detective.”

  Mike chuckled. “Detectives investigate more than just murders. However, in this case you’re correct. The man who called you and his writing partner were gunned down last night.”

  “Because they wanted to do a story about Irene’s murder?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

  “Well, it wasn’t me. I was here. Feel free to check the airlines if you don’t believe me.”

  “I will. Where do you work, Mr. Adams?” Without hesitation, Adams told him and Mike wrote it down. Then he said, “Again, thanks for speaking with me.”

  “Welcome,” Adams replied before hanging up.

  Mike did check with the various airlines. They had no record of Dave Adams flying into the city, or taking any flights at all during the previous year. The same held true with the bus and train lines. Which doesn’t mean he couldn’t have driven up here. He ran a search and found out the drive would have taken a little less than a day each way. With that information, he called Adam’s employer. The man said Adams had a perfect work record, having missed only two days in the past year, and they had been right before Christmas.

  I guess that takes you out of the running. If Van
and Gene were killed because of the Blue Car murder, that leaves Oliver and Ridley. Or—he didn’t like his next thought—someone else who was never a suspect to start with. Let’s hope that’s not the case.

  He read through the files again, looking for any mention of other men connected to Irene. The only one that popped up was her father, and he had died of a heart attack soon after her murder. From what her mother had said at the time, he’d still be alive if someone hadn’t killed his daughter. Just like Irene would be alive if Adams had married her? The woman’s quick to lay blame. Perhaps it’s time to have a talk with her. Something, as far as he could determine from their notes, Van and Gene hadn’t done.

  He checked the time, realized it was later than he’d thought, and decided speaking with Mrs. Gibbs could wait until morning—if he survived helping the ghosts move what Van and Gene wanted to take from their house to the barn. He chuckled at that thought and shut down his computer. He was almost to the squad room doorway when the woman from forensics appeared.

  “Thought you’d like to know,” she said, “Mr. Ridley’s car came up clean. I’m still analyzing the residue I got from Oliver’s vehicle. Apparently that man doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘clean’ from all the crap I retrieved.”

  Mike grinned. “Is crap an official designation?”

  She smiled. “It is, now. Do you want me to call you when I’ve gotten the results or wait until tomorrow?”

  “Call me, please.”

  “Will do.”

  Chapter 4

  “Tell me again why we’re doing this?” Mike grumbled after he and Sage had picked up the rental truck late Wednesday evening.

  Sage patted Mike’s thigh. “Because we’re nice guys who want to help out.”

  “I’d rather be in bed at this hour.”

  “Me, too, but like I said…”

  “Yeah, yeah. Hopefully they’re organized enough we can put everything in the truck and leave without any hassle.”

  They were, much to Sage’s relief. Grumpy Mike was not the person he’d fallen in love with. Okay, amend that. He was very grumpy at first until he realized there was more to me than just a handsome face. He smiled at that idea, since he’d never considered himself close to handsome.

  “This is it?” Mike asked, looking at what Brody and the others who were able to move things had put by the back door to Van and Gene’s kitchen.

  “Yep,” Brody replied. “The bed, which thank God was easy to take apart, the dresser, and the bookcases.” He chuckled. “Be glad they didn’t want the big ones.”

  After Sage relayed Brody’s words, Mike said he was.

  There was also a box of candles as well as several filled with books. Gene told Sage that Jon and Tonio had selected most of them, other than the ones he and Van used for research for their mystery stories. “Not that we’ll be writing any for a while.”

  “For a while?” Sage asked.

  “It’s what we do. We’ll go crazy if we’re not writing, even if it’s with pens and paper and only for us, and you guys.”

  “Of course, if Mike finds out who killed us that might be moot,” Van added.

  When Sage told Mike what was being said, he replied, “I’m working on it. I’ll tell you what I know so far, after we get you moved.”

  “Bedspreads, or curtains,” Kurt said. “We almost forgot them. Where are they? See, I told you we should have added them to the list, Tonio.” That rated him an eye roll from his boyfriend.

  Gene showed Kurt where they were. When they returned, Mike grinned. “I’ll never get used to seeing things floating in midair.” Kurt was carrying several bedspreads, some sheets, and two pillows.

  The ghosts took the fast way back to the barn—arriving well before Sage and Mike—and Brody lit the candles so they’d have light to work by. When the humans got there, the ghosts who were able to help took the books and furniture up to the loft, along with Mike’s toolbox. Mike and Sage were forbidden by Brody from carrying anything while climbing the rickety ladder to the loft. “We barely have room for the six of us,” he said. “You fall and break your necks…” He smirked. “Let’s not add two more because then we’d have to look for a new place…again.”

  Mike looked at the set-up for the new bedroom, nodding his approval. “A few nails and this should work.” He fastened the feet of the ladder, and the top, securely to the floor and ceiling, and then Tonio, Jon, and Kurt got the bedspreads hung. While they did that, Mike and Sage put the bed back together.

  By the time midnight rolled around everything was in place with the exception of the books, which would be unpacked in the morning.

  “Okay, what have you learned so far?” Van asked after they all found somewhere to sit—in Tonio and Kurt’s case on the floor, backs against the wall. Sage repeated his question to Mike.

  “I’ve talked with the three suspects in Irene’s murder. Unless he’s got superpowers, there’s no way Dave Adams could be the one who shot you. I’ve confirmed to my satisfaction that he was in Florida last night.”

  “What about Oliver and Ridley?” Gene asked through Sage.

  “Ridley’s alibi isn’t ironclad, because he could have made it from his meeting to where you were in time to shoot you. However, I don’t see how he would have known the two of you had gone out to a movie to begin with unless he followed you before going to meet his clients. He was with them from seven until nine, give or take a few minutes, which they confirmed.”

  Van nodded. “But he could have been watching us.” As always, Sage relayed his comment.

  “It’s conceivable, but I find it highly unlikely, given the timeframe,” Mike replied. “Now, we come to Jim Oliver, and this is where it gets interesting. When I asked him where he had been last night, he immediately replied that he was getting ready for bed after watching a movie on TV.”

  “Your question was that general, and he was that specific?” Brody asked, and Sage repeated. “That definitely raises a red flag.”

  “Exactly what I thought,” Mike replied. “I’m waiting on the report from our forensics person on his car. For what it’s worth, apparently he didn’t try to clean it. But then it might not have occurred to him until I mentioned it that, if he is the shooter, there will be trace residue from firing the gun.”

  “If there is, then what?” Sage asked, knowing that would undoubtedly be the next question from one of the ghosts.

  “That should give me probable cause to get a warrant to search his home and car for the weapon.”

  Van frowned. “He wouldn’t be stupid enough to keep it, would he?”

  When Sage told Mike what Van had asked, Mike replied, “He might have, if he thought he had a good hiding place for it. He didn’t strike me as the smartest man I’ve ever met.”

  “I hope it was him,” Gene said. “Because if it wasn’t, we’re back to square one.”

  Van hugged him. “It will be. It has to be. They—” he pointed up, “—wouldn’t be that cruel.”

  “Don’t count on it,” Jon said morosely. He managed a smile when Brody took his hand. “At least I have all of you.”

  “And we don’t plan on leaving, no matter what, unless you can, too,” Tonio said.

  “Thank you,” Jon replied sincerely. “I guess being here does have its perks, such as having good friends like you and Kurt.” He kissed Brody’s cheek. “And you, more than anyone. But still it would be nice to know who killed me, just for the record.”

  Again, Sage relayed everything that had been said.

  Mike agreed with Van and Gene that the best case scenario, “If you can call it that,” would be if Oliver was their killer. “If he is, you’ll be able to move on, or…” He tapped his fingers together.

  “Or?” Sage said.

  “They were going to dig into Jon’s case. As I think Van said, coming at it with a fresh point of view.” Mike waved his arm around. “We’ve spent hours setting this up so they’d have a place to stay. It would be a shame if all our hard labor
was in vain.”

  “Trying to guilt us out?” Van asked, glancing at Gene when he chuckled.

  “Maybe?” Mike replied when Sage told him what Van had said. “At least think about it. You don’t know everyone that well, yet, but you seem to get along with them, so staying here to help Jon wouldn’t be a hardship.”

  “It won’t be easy,” Gene said. “With no Wi-Fi, we can’t use our laptops, even if we were able to, physically. The same goes for our phones.”

  Brody grinned. “Mike and Sage have a home office I’m sure they’d let you use, and I can do the physical work on the laptops.”

  “Oh, boy,” Sage muttered before telling Mike what they’d said.

  Mike rolled his eyes, but agreed it was an option and said he’d bring their laptops and phones home with him after work Friday. “Or today, I guess, considering the time.”

  “We’d need to see your files on his case,” Van said, and Sage repeated.

  “Not a problem,” Mike told him.

  “Do you really think…?” Jon asked, looking at Van and Gene.

  “That we can find something everyone else missed, to prove who killed you? No guarantees, but hey, it’s worth a try,” Gene replied.

  “Damn right it is,” Van said enthusiastically. “I’m not sure I’m ready to find out where we’ll end up, if we can move on. This will give us a good reason to stick around, no matter what.” He hugged Gene. “We’re back in business.”

  On that note, after Sage gave Mike the gist of what had been said; Mike decided it was time for him and Sage to go home. “We both have jobs and getting some sleep would be a good thing before we have to face them again.”

  Van and Gene, through Sage, thanked them both for their help. Mike promised he’d let them know the moment he found out anything pertaining to Oliver—by texting Brody. Then, they left.

  “You guys are really okay with helping me?” Jon asked Van.

  “I already said we were,” Van replied. He grinned. “I love a good mystery.”

  “Thank you!”

  “Okay, folks, I think it’s time for all of us to get some sleep, too,” Brody announced, getting up.