Deadly Circumstances

by Terri Reid

  “You know,” Bradley said. “Your ability to see ghosts. Maybe those psychic abilities mess up electronic frequencies?”

  She sighed with relief and nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense,” she said. “How about if we wire Stanley?”

  “What are you talking about girlie?” Stanley asked. “I ain’t never had nothing like that on me.”

  Bradley walked over to Stanley with the tiny wireless mike. “It’s no big deal,” he said. “I just tape this tiny microphone under your clothes, and then it picks up the sounds in the room,” Bradley said. “So, when I’m in the other room, I can hear what’s going on in here.”

  Stanley looked skeptically down at the small device. “Can it electrocute me?” he asked.

  Bradley rolled his eyes. “Of course it can, Stanley,” he said. “Which is why I was just trying to tape it to my pregnant wife.”

  Grumbling, Stanley started unbuttoning his shirt. “Well, there’s no need to have an attitude about it,” he muttered.

  Mary clapped her hand over her mouth to hold back her laughter and walked to where Rosie and Margo were laying out the refreshments for the post-séance party.

  “You know,” Mary said. “If we actually catch the murderer tonight, there might not be a party.”

  Rosie smiled at her. “Oh, that’s okay dear,” she said. “We made extra in case there are lots of police officers here.”

  “And we’re using paper cups and plates in case there’s a fire fight and they have to up end the table for a barrier,” Margo said, equally as nonchalantly as Rosie.

  “Okay, then,” Mary replied. “I guess you have it all covered.”

  Margo smiled at Mary and then gently patted her cheek. “Murder is my business dear,” she said.

  Mary enveloped Margo in a hug. “You are simply amazing,” she said. “I’m so glad you came here to recuperate.”

  Margo looked up at Mary with a strange look on her face. Then she stepped away.

  “What?” Mary asked. “Did I do something?”

  Margo shook her head and then took a couple of steps in a circle. “My hip,” she said slowly, taking a few more steps. “My hip suddenly feels good. No, not good. Great.”

  “Margo, I’m so happy for you,” Rosie replied. “See, I told you that yak ointment I gave you would do the trick.”

  “You still have that yak ointment?” Mary asked, remembering when Rosie tried to give it to her.

  Rosie shrugged. “Well, it was non-refundable,” she explained. “But look. It’s worked miracles.”

  Margo looked from Rosie to Mary and then back to Rosie again. “Yes,” she said slowly. “That must be it.”

  Rosie grinned. “I’m so delighted it worked,” she replied, patting the table happily. “Okay, we still need napkins.”

  Once Rosie had left the room, Margo turned to Mary and shook her head. “It wasn’t the yak ointment,” she said quietly.

  “I know,” Mary replied. “I would have been able to smell that on you a mile away.”

  Giggling softly, Margo nodded. “Yes, I opened the jar, immediately closed it and had to air out my bedroom for an hour,” she agreed.

  “Well, whatever it was that healed you,” Mary said, “I’m so glad you’re feeling better.”

  “Thank you, Mary,” Margo replied. “And now, let’s go catch a murderer.”

  Chapter Forty-seven

  With Bradley safely ensconced in headphones in the guest room with a plate of cookies, several sandwiches, a pitcher of water, a linen tablecloth and napkins all provided by Rosie, they were ready to get started. At five minutes before seven, the front doorbell rang, and Rosie turned to Mary, her eyes wide with apprehension.

  “What should I do?” she asked.

  “Answer the door,” Mary prompted gently.

  Rosie giggled nervously. “Well, of course,” she replied.

  Stanley accompanied Rosie to the door, and they opened it to find Eddie standing on the porch.

  “Hi,” he said hesitantly. “I’m Eddie Koch. My parents…”

  “Of course,” Rosie said. “We loved your parents. Please come in. My name is Rosie Wagner, and this is my husband, Stanley.”

  As Eddie entered the house, Stanley walked over and thrust his chest as close to Eddie as he could get it. “What’s your name again?” Stanley asked. “I don’t know if I heard it correctly.”

  Eddie stepped back, but Stanley followed. “It’s Eddie,” he stammered. “Eddie Koch.”

  Stanley nodded. “Yeah, I got that this time,” he said, and then he raised his voice. “That was Eddie. Eddie Koch.”

  Mary closed her eyes for a brief moment, praying for patience, and then she joined them at the door. “Eddie, I’m so glad you could make it,” she said. “Why don’t you come on over to the table and have a seat. We’re going to begin in a moment. Margo, I don’t think you’ve met Eddie yet.”

  Margo greeted the young man and diplomatically guided him away from Stanley and towards the large dining room table where the séance was going to be held.

  “Stanley,” Mary whispered fiercely when Eddie was across the room.

  “You think Bradley heard that?” he asked.

  “I think Bradley is going to be deaf for a week,” she replied. “The microphone is very sensitive. You don’t have to get that close to people in order to have it pick up their voices. It’s built to be discreet.”

  “Well, then why didn’t anyone tell me?” he asked. “Here I was thrusting my chest out like a darn, fool rooster.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “We should have told you. Now…”

  She was interrupted by another doorbell ring. “That will be Butch,” she said.

  Stanley nodded. “Don’t worry, girlie,” he said. “I got it covered now.”

  He walked over to the door and greeted Butch, guiding him slowly to the table because of his walker. Margo walked over to Mary and shook her head. “I was so overwhelmed with his comments at the ice cream parlor that I forgot about his walker,” she whispered. “How in the world could he cut brake lines when he can barely get around?”

  Mary shook her head. “I don’t know,” she whispered back. “But at this point, all we can do is see what happens.”

  Both of the women joined the others around the table. Mary sat at the head of the table and nodded to Stanley, who turned off the lights, so only a candle in the middle of the table lit the room.

  “Thank you all for coming tonight,” Mary said. “I know this is unusual. But we wanted to see if we could speak to Frasier and Shirley one last time to determine the details of their deaths.”

  Butch shifted in his chair. “I’m actually an agnostic when it comes to this kind of crap,” he said loudly. “Maybe I shouldn’t be here. Wouldn’t want to chase the spirits away.”

  “Oh, I think you’re fine,” Rosie said. “I think Frasier and Shirley were Republicans, but they had open minds.”

  Margo, seated on the other side of Butch, muffled a chuckle. “I think it’s important that our combined energies help summon them,” Margo added. “So, really Butch, the more the merrier.”

  “Could we just get on with it?” Eddie asked.

  “Of course,” Mary said. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Shirley and Frasier, we ask you to come forth from the abyss and meet with us, your friends and family.”

  “We weren’t in no abyss,” Frasier said, standing alongside Mary. “We were in the kitchen waiting. Can’t these people ever shut up?”

  “Hush, Frasier,” Shirley said, slapping her husband’s arm. “These things take time.”

  “How would you know?” he asked. “How many séances have you been to?”

  Shirley just huffed in response.

  Mary was grateful that no else could hear the ghosts. She calmly took another breath. “I can feel their spirits in the room with us.”

  Eddie looked around the room, his eyes glistening with tears. “Mom. Dad,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

 
; Chapter Forty-eight

  Shirley moved around the table and stood next to her son, placing her hand on his shoulder. Eddie’s eyes widened, and he looked at Mary. “I can feel her,” he said. “I can feel my mom.”

  “Hogwash,” Butch mumbled.

  “Could you repeat that?” Stanley asked, leaning over towards Butch.

  “I said hogwash,” Butch repeated.

  “Thank you,” Stanley replied.

  But Eddie wasn’t paying attention to them. “I’m so sorry,” he said softly.

  “They want to know why you’re sorry,” Mary said.

  “Yeah, did he kill us?” Frasier asked. “But, I’m telling you, a simple I’m sorry isn’t going to do it.”

  Eddie took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I wasn’t the son you wanted,” he said. “I’m sorry I kept giving up on things when I just should have worked through them. I’m sorry we argued…”

  He choked back a sob. “I’m so sorry we argued on that last night,” he said. “If there were any way I could take those words back.”

  “Your father has a question for you,” Mary said.

  “I do?” Frasier asked.

  “He wants to know why you haven’t destroyed the car,” Mary continued. “Why you kept it hidden at the junk yard.”

  Eddie shook his head and sighed. “I thought they’d understand,” he said. “I thought, you know, it would make it better, at least in a small way.”

  He turned to Mary. “When you spoke to me, I realized that the insurance company, or whoever you are working for, would find out about the car,” he said. “I couldn’t have their investigators searching the car. I couldn’t have them find…”

  He stopped talking and sighed. Then he reached his hand inside his jacket. “I brought this, because I knew all the questions needed to stop,” he said.

  Mary held her breath, expecting Eddie to pull a gun out on them.

  “Eddie wait,” she said. “This isn’t—”

  “No, I have to do it,” he said. “It’s important.”

  He pulled out his fisted hand, held it out over the table and then opened it. A soft “ping” sounded.

  “That was a soft ping,” Stanley said. “Iffen anyone listening couldn’t hear it.”

  “What? What is it?” Mary asked.

  “Oh,” Shirley gasped. “My earring. My pearl earring.”

  “An earring?” Mary said. “Your mom’s pearl earring.”

  Eddie quickly glanced at Mary. “She really is here, isn’t she?” he asked, amazed.

  Mary nodded.

  “Mom,” Eddie said. “They couldn’t find your earring. They said it must have been lost at the crash site. I know how much you loved them…”

  “Eddie bought them for me when he got his first job.” She lifted her hand up and moved her hair, and Mary saw that indeed, she was only wearing one earring. “They meant so much to me.”

  “I couldn’t let them destroy the car,” he said. “I had to find it.”

  Frasier wiped the tears from his cheeks. “That’s my son,” he said, his voice hoarse. “That’s the Eddie I have always been proud of.”

  “You bought them for her,” Mary said. “When you got your first job.”

  Eddie nodded. “Every time she wore them, it helped me remember the person I could be,” he said. “I never felt I failed her. Only my dad.”

  Mary glanced over at Frasier. He nodded and glided around the table to where his son was seated and placed his hand on Eddie’s other shoulder. Eddie gasped. “He’s here, too,” he said, looking at Mary for confirmation.

  She nodded. “Yeah, he’s been here the whole time.”

  “I’m so sorry, Dad,” Eddie said.

  “No, I’m the one who’s sorry,” Frasier interrupted. “I never gave you a chance.”

  “He said he’s the one who’s sorry,” Mary said. “He feels that he never gave you a chance.”

  “No, Dad, you gave me a lot of chances. I just blew them,” Eddie replied.

  “You shouldn’t limit the number of chances you give people,” Frasier said. “You should love them and encourage them, no matter what.”

  Mary repeated Frasier’s words, and Eddie shook his head, chuckling softly through his tears. “But then we wouldn’t have had anything to talk about,” he whispered.

  Frasier laughed sadly and nodded. “That was my fault, too,” he said, shaking his head with regret.

  “He said that was his fault, too,” Mary said. “He’s so sorry.”

  “I think we were both at fault,” Eddie said. “I love you, Dad.”

  “I love you too, son,” Frasier said softly.

  Eddie looked over at Mary and smiled through his tears. “You don’t have to repeat it,” he said, his voice cracking. “I heard him. I heard him loud and clear.”

  “I’m not falling for this crap,” Butch suddenly shouted. “They are dead. They are gone. There’s no one here in this room except us.”

  Chapter Forty-nine

  The room was shrouded in instant silence, and everyone stared at Butch.

  “Why the hell is he here?” Frasier asked, finally noticing the other people around the table. “He’s supposed to be in jail.”

  Mary looked over at Butch. “You’re supposed to be in jail?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “No, the case was thrown out,” he said.

  “Well, damn, of course,” Frasier said. “I missed that court date, didn’t I?”

  “What court date?” Mary asked.

  “The court date I was supposed to have the week after the accident,” Frasier replied. He turned to Shirley. “I’ve been such an idiot. I was so focused on the argument with Eddie, I didn’t even think about the embezzlement.”

  “Embezzlement?” Mary repeated, feeling like she just walked into a parallel universe.

  “You heard that, right?” Stanley shouted. “She said embezzlement.”

  Butch stood up and slid his chair back.

  “Oh, look,” Rosie said. “He can walk without his walker. It’s a miracle.”

  Margo looked across to her friend. “I would guess that the walker is a ruse,” she said. “So people wouldn’t consider him for the crimes he committed.”

  Butch turned to Margo. “There’s no evidence,” he said. “The only eyewitness died before he could testify. Besides, it was all the musings of an angry, jealous, disturbed man.”

  “What is he talking about?” Shirley asked.

  Frasier sighed. “I discovered that someone had been skimming money off the books at the VFW,” he said. “Money that was supposed to go towards scholarships and widows.”

  She nodded. “I remember,” she said. “You told me Melvin did it. You told me you confronted him and told him if he paid it back, you wouldn’t go to the authorities.”

  “Melvin insisted he was innocent,” he said. “But I didn’t listen to him. I told him I had enough proof to send him away for a long time. So, he paid.”

  Mary looked at Butch. “You set Melvin up to take the fall?” she asked. “You stole the money and made Melvin the fall guy?”

  Butch smiled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. “There is no evidence to the contrary. And the word of a ghost doesn’t tend to stand up in court.”

  “The word of a ghost might not,” Margo said. “But the word of an FBI agent might.”

  “What?” Butch exclaimed, turning towards Margo.

  She shrugged. “I knew there was something suspicious about you when I first met you,” she said. “Sharply honed intuition. And you weren’t clever enough to clear the history on your computer.”

  “What?” he asked.

  She nodded and repeated his password to him. “Electronic surveillance is quite remarkable.”

  His face turned ashen. “How much do you know?” he stammered.

  “How much do you think I know?” she countered. “Shall we start with how-to articles on cutting car brakes, schematics of the Koch’s car, or do you want me
to start talking about your bank accounts?”

  He started to glance nervously around the room.

  “Don’t even think about trying to get away,” Margo added. “I have the place surrounded.”

  “I was desperate,” he said. “I needed the money. I had just lost everything I had investing in currency. It wasn’t that much. If only Frasier had let it go.”

  Margo pushed her chair back and faced him. “Say it,” she said. “Before my guys break down these doors and haul you away, we all deserve to hear you say it.”

  Eddie stood up. “I deserve to hear it from you, too,” he said.

  “I cut the brake lines,” he said. “I didn’t mean to kill them. I just wanted to put him in the hospital for a while. Then I could get out of town. Really, I didn’t mean to kill him.”

  “Did everyone hear that?” Stanley yelled at his chest.

  “Yes, Stanley,” Bradley said, walking into the room. “Everyone heard that.”

  “Butch Beck, you are under arrest for the murder of Shirley and Frasier Koch,” Bradley said, coming forward and slipping his handcuffs out of his waistband.

  He turned to Margo and smiled. “Thank you, Agent Taylor,” he said. “Your cooperation in this case has been extremely helpful.”

  Chapter Fifty

  “I didn’t know you were an FBI agent,” Rosie said once Butch had been led from the room.

  “I’m not,” Margo said.

  “But you said…” Rosie began.

  “I just said that the word of an FBI agent would be taken in court,” she said with a quick shrug. “I wasn’t lying. I never said it was me.”

  “But how did you know about his financial records?” Stanley asked.

  “I didn’t,” Margo replied. “But I figured if he was ignorant enough to confess to the group of us about embezzling, he wasn’t much smarter with his financial records.”

  “Margo, you saved the day,” Mary said. “Thank you.”

  She shrugged. “I’ve learned a lot about bluffing from Ann’s books,” she replied, and then her face brightened. “I wonder if she’d be able to use this in a book.” Then she sighed. “No. No one would ever believe it.”