PENITENCE: An Andi Comstock Supernatural Mystery, Book 2 (95,893 words)

by Ann Simas

  “If anything does occur to you, give me a call, okay?”

  “It won’t,” Denise said and hung up.

  Baffled by Denise’s rudeness, Andi’s hackles rose. She set down her phone and added a second question to her list, which subsequently generated question three.

  Next, she looked up the elder Naylor’s phone number. Gayle answered and put the phone on speaker so Bert could hear. The children, she said, were engrossed in a movie in the family room.

  Andi dove right in. “I gather that Clem didn’t discuss work much at home, particularly anything dealing with personnel issues, but I wondered if he ever talked to you about what was going on at his firm.”

  “I don’t think that’s strictly true,” Gayle said right off the bat, “although he preferred not to bring work home with him.”

  Bert made a sound that could have been agreement and said, “He was having issues with his partners.”

  Gayle added, “Clem was somewhat of a penny-pincher and all Gus and Vince wanted to do was spend, spend, spend.”

  “Clem did mention that to me,” Andi said, “but I wondered if there were any clients who were angry at him specifically, for any reason.”

  “Wasn’t there someone last year?” Gayle asked her husband. “Remember, he quit the deal Clem was brokering for him? Something to do with a sewer assessment and pending development charges on the property?”

  “Good grief, you’re right! I’d forgotten about that, but it wasn’t like they came to blows or anything like that. They basically told Clem to eff-off and withdrew the offer.” Bert grunted out a snort of disgust. “Inexperienced buyers, if you ask me. Clem had no control over assessments and the like.”

  “I don’t recall Clem ever mentioned that fiasco again,” Gayle said. “He was like that. He didn’t dwell on losses, he focused on the next project and moved on.” Her voice caught with emotion. “That’s why I don’t understand how he could have put a contract out on Denise’s life.”

  “Me, either,” Bert agreed, “it’s totally unlike him to do something like that.”

  A pregnant pause ensued. Andi waited. She envisioned Clem’s parents having a silent conversation via eye contact.

  Finally, Gayle asked, “Why did you say Clem didn’t talk much about work at home, Andi? He and Denise usually talked everything to death.”

  Andi recognized a potential family problem when she went charging into it. “I must have misunderstood Denise.”

  The retired bird colonel snorted. “Not likely. Knowing Denise, she’s privy to something she doesn’t want to share with you. Probably something either embarrassing or incriminating.”

  Gayle sucked in a breath.

  “Simmer down, dear,” her husband said. “I’m sure it’s nothing like that.”

  Left in the dark, Andi could only assume they were communicating in long-time married couples’ code about a possible affair between Clem and someone who wasn’t on Andi’s list of involved parties.

  “I hope not!” Gayle said, her tone fervent. “We didn’t raise him to cheat on his wife.”

  Andi was only half-surprised that her wild guess had been correct.

  “We didn’t raise him to hire anyone to kill her, either,” Bert said, “but that didn’t stop him from doing so.”

  Clem’s parents would agonize over what their son had done, maybe until the day they died. Andi had no way of relieving their suffering and consternation. She had more questions, but wondered if the kindest thing to do at that point would be to thank them for their help and say goodbye.

  “Andi,” Bert said, before she could make up her mind, “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about this. Do you think…well, is there any chance at all that Clem’s not the one who’s talking to you?”

  A week earlier, Andi would have blurted out an unequivocal no, but things had changed since then. The facts seemed more jumbled now, to the point where she thought anything might be possible.

  The voice who’d spoken to her presented as Clem and knew intimate, personal details about Denise and the family. But, if not Clem, then who? The only response that popped into her mind was, Maybe Denise did have a lover. Great, another kink to throw back into the works, even though it made no sense whatsoever as an answer to Bert’s question.

  No doubt, whoever it was speaking to her was dead. Though she knew it wasn’t possible Clem had a stand-in, she felt she owed it to Bert to ease his mind, although disproving his theory might not have a positive outcome. “If it’s not Clem talking to me, it would have to be someone so familiar with him that he knows everything there is to know about him. How likely would that be? Can either of you think of anyone Clem and/or Denise knows who died around the same time as Clem?”

  “I….” Gayle faltered. “Bert?”

  “No,” he answered, his voice gruff. “I don’t know of any of his close friends passing at the same time.”

  “Why did such a thought even occur to you, Bert?” Gayle asked.

  “To be honest, I don’t know. The shock over losing Clem…I guess I’m not thinking straight.”

  “It’s okay,” Andi said with compassion. “I can’t even imagine how horrible this has all been for the two of you, but you need to know that I did confirm with the funeral home that it was Clem who was cremated at the time I first spoke to him.”

  Something that sounded like a strangled sob came across the phone lines. Andi felt like the worst kind of troublemaker. She paused for a few moments, jotting down another question on her list. With any luck, the brief interlude would keep them from dwelling…ah, hell! Nothing would keep them from dwelling on any aspect of this debacle. Just ask the question and get it over with. “Do you happen remember the irate client’s name?” Please, give me a lead, no matter how small.

  “Bacon or Beacon or Deagan or—”

  “Deacon?” Andi asked.

  “Yes, that’s it,” Bert said. “The Deacons. I think Clem met them at church.”

  The Deacons were clients of Clem’s? “Seth and Marianne Deacon?”

  “I think that’s right,” Gayle said. “How did you know?”

  “Clem had a notation on his calendar for ‘Deacon dinner.’” She explained how she and Denise had netted the couple’s names through a process of elimination.

  “They had inherited some money and they wanted an off-Wall Street investment,” Bert said.

  She tried not to give away her excitement. “Anyone else?”

  “No, but can I ask you something?” Bert asked.

  “Sure.”

  “Why are you asking us these questions instead of the cops?”

  Andi answered honestly. “When someone like Clem communicates with me, I take it personally, like it’s an assignment I’ve been given from a higher power that I’m not supposed to ignore.” She hesitated, unsure how much to admit. When she came to a decision, she wondered how the Naylors would take it. “Whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing, I couldn’t say, but it’s not in my nature to pass along the information and then butt out.”

  Bert grunted. “You have balls, girl, I’ll give you that.”

  “You be careful, Andi,” Gayle said. “Obviously, I have no experience speaking with the dead, but there could be repercussions, you know? Like from the great beyond?”

  Repercussions? Andi had never once considered that. Was it even possible? What would such repercussions even involve?

  She thanked them both for their time and assured them she’d be cautious. Once she’d disconnected, she added another three questions to her growing list.

  Damn, could this whole thing get any more complicated or bizarre?

  She feared the answer to that question was a resounding yes.

  Her brain was about ready to explode. She needed to discuss her notes and her questions with someone, preferably Jack or Father Riley. Unfortunately, Father Riley’s Saturday afternoons were committed to the confessional and 5:30 mass, for those who liked to sleep in on Sunday.

  But where was
Jack and why hadn’t he at least texted?

  She picked up her phone and texted him.

  everything going okay?

  She would have added more in hopes of prying more than a yes or no answer out of him, but decided, in this instance, less was better.

  A few minutes later, her phone pinged, signaling a response.

  yes. feel like ribs for dinner?

  She shot back,

  only if not still cracked.

  He replied,

  ha-ha. c u in an hour.

  Andi got all warm and tingly inside, belatedly glancing out the window.

  When had it gotten dark? Good grief, she’d been working on the Clem stuff for six hours!

  Chapter 23

  Jack arrived with the whole Texas-style barbeque shebang: ribs, potato salad, beans, corn muffins, and bread pudding for dessert. Beer from the night before would serve as the chaser.

  Andi regretted she had no cowgirl duds to slip into. Jack informed her that he liked her just fine in her pajamas.

  While they ate, he told her about the day he’d spent tracking down and arresting a guy who’d tried to sexually assault a woman on the running path. “The dipshit didn’t count on her having a PepperBlaster or an expandable baton. He left a helluva a blood trail, which made it a lot easier for us to track him, even after he veered off the path. Max located his sorry ass immediately.”

  “Max?”

  “He’s one of our two K-9s.”

  “I guess I didn’t even realize EPD had K-9s. Is the victim okay?”

  “She had a few scrapes from being pushed to the ground, and she needed stitches in her hand from a cut when she landed on a piece of broken glass, but really, she got the better of him. Not only did he get pepper in his eyes, but he has an egg the size of Chicago on his head.”

  “Good.”

  Jack used the wet wipes to clean his fingers. “You should’ve seen him when we entered his residence. He was crying like a baby and insisted we arrest her for assault.”

  Andi stared at him wide-eyed. “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope, plus we had witnesses who saw everything. The POS is dumber than a box of rocks. He apparently thought he could grab her off the trail and no one would notice.”

  Andi dumped the bowl full of bones and all the empty containers into the empty carry sack and took it over to the counter. “Ready for dessert?”

  “Maybe in a while.” Jack came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist. “I missed you today.” He pushed her hair aside and kissed the side of her neck. “What did you do to occupy your time?”

  Andi pressed back against him. “Sat in front of the TV watching chick flicks while I devoured a box of chocolates.” She raised her hand and laid it against his cheek. “It completely drained me.”

  He nipped her neck lightly. “Always the wise ass.”

  “Umm, but so much better than being a dumb ass.” She turned in his arms. “Actually, I spent the afternoon working on the Clem thing.”

  He pulled back a bit. “Is calling it a thing supposed to deter me from thinking you were working on my case?”

  She shook her head. “I wasn’t working on your case.”

  He stared down at her with his cop face, but fortunately for her, she knew how to deflect his interrogation tactics. Her hand slid down to the front of his slacks.

  He captured it and moved it back up to his shoulder. “Prove it.”

  Hmm, reverse psychology. A new tactic for him, but Andi was game to play. She gave him another quick kiss before she stepped away. “Follow me.”

  Jack did as instructed and took the chair she drew up next to hers in front of her laptop.

  She brought up the timeline first.

  He studied it with narrowed eyes. “The Liquidator only has two days left.”

  “He won’t make his move until Monday,” Andi said.

  He gave her sideways look. “So, in addition to hearing the dead, you’re also into fortune-telling. Is that a new perk from your foray into Santería?”

  “You jest, but if I hadn’t discovered and researched Santería, we wouldn’t have been able to get Sherry’s killer, now would we?”

  Jack rolled his eyes and redirected them to the screen. “What else have you got, Nostradamus?”

  Andi grinned and pulled up the next document. “This is all the people who are involved in the Clem thing.”

  Jack studied all the criss-crosses, his expression intent. “Gavin is looking into the Deacon death’s as a double murder.”

  “I’m not surprised, but what led him to that?”

  “Why aren’t you surprised?”

  She shrugged. “Just a feeling and learning today from Bert and Gayle that Clem had some business dealings with them that went south.”

  He grunted. “The forensics tech did a test for gunpowder residue on both victims’ hands. Neither had it, ergo someone else killed them and left the weapon behind, stupidly thinking it would be called murder–suicide.”

  “Another killer who thinks he—or she—is smarter than the cops.” Andi related what she and Father Riley had discovered.

  “Why didn’t you let me know that right away?”

  “It didn’t seem relevant until you confirmed it was a double murder.”

  His momentary exasperation evaporated. “You’re right. So, memorial service on Monday morning, with cremation to follow in the afternoon.”

  She nodded. “I’ll stick like glue to my chair at work.”

  “Maybe I should come over and wait with you.”

  “You could, but we don’t even know if it’ll pan out to be anything.”

  “True, but the way these Smokies seem to know everything that’s going on, I’m betting it will.”

  “I promise I’ll call you as soon as I hear from them.”

  He gave her a quick nod and said, “Show me what else you’ve got on the Clem thing.”

  Ignoring the facetiousness in his tone, she produced her question list next.

  Jack read through each one, his expression darkening as he progressed. “Jesus, Andi, you’ve got some convoluted shit going on here.”

  She sighed. “I know, but it’s where my thoughts took me.”

  “No wonder the LT thinks you’d be a good cop.”

  “So you’re not mad at me?”

  “I should be.”

  “But you’re not.”

  “Quit while you’re ahead, Miss Marple.”

  They spent considerable time tossing around how Denise Naylor could remain calm for so long about her life being in danger, and why she downplayed Clem discussing work with her. Neither could fathom a reason for the latter, but one explanation surfaced regarding why she wasn’t freaking out about the hit Clem had put on her. Denise knew she wasn’t going to die.

  And she knew she wasn’t going to die because….

  Therein lay the quandary, which offered two possibilities, neither of which seemed feasible.

  Either she’d discovered Clem’s throw-away phone in his drawer early on, read the text messages, discovered the plot to off her, and figured out a way to kill him first.

  Or, she’d made friends with the hitman, who’d fallen passionately in love with her and couldn’t pull the trigger on his soul mate.

  “I’m sure I’ve encountered a stranger turn of events in a murder investigation before,” Jack said.

  “Stranger than a B-grade movie plot written by aliens from Mars with no screenwriting experience?” Andi asked with doubt.

  His eyes twinkling, he admitted, “Well, maybe not when you put it like that.”

  . . .

  Jack picked Andi up for eleven o’clock mass and afterward, they went to Jack’s for their every-other week, rotating luncheon with Father Riley, who had hosted two weeks earlier. It was the priest’s turn to bring dessert. He’d opted for homemade brownies and vanilla bean ice cream.

  Jack put a pan of lasagna into the oven to heat while Andi set the table. While the main course he
ated, they discussed a variety of subjects, but spent the most time talking about the Clem thing. Andi had brought along printouts of her timeline, the names of the involved parties, and the nearly 20-questions list.

  “I have to admit,” Father Riley said, “I’m antsy about what the Deacons might say to you tomorrow.”

  “You really think they’ll both speak to Andi?” Jack asked.

  “Of course. Just the other day, she had a father and his two children all stop for a chat.”

  Jack jerked his head toward Andi. “I didn’t know that.”

  Andi told him the story. “The mom is on life support and I guess the relatives are having a disagreement over discontinuing it.”

  “They ended up pulling the plug on Friday,” Jack said.

  “How do you know that?”

  “It’s a cross-jurisdictional case because the crash happened at the interchange. We had to go over and tell them the semi driver was being charged with involuntary manslaughter. Apparently, he got cited at the weigh station for having a bad tire on his rig and instead of stopping in Edgerton to get it replaced, he kept on driving.”

  “And wiped out an entire family,” Andi said, her eyes watering. “The dad, Gene Kirkland, said his wife would be joining them soon.” She plopped down onto a chair at the table and shot Father Riley a beseeching look. “Is it really true that when we die, we learn the answers to everything?”

  “I can’t say definitively, Andi, but it’s what I choose to believe.”

  “Gene said he knew Clem and that I should keep pushing him, because ‘he surely has the answer.’” She air-quoted her words. “He knew his wife was going to die. Does that mean he’s right about Clem? Should I keep after him to give me something useful?”

  Jack studied her, his jaw working. “You know it sticks in my craw to say this….”

  She knew what was coming, and of course it would bug him to admit it.

  “Since Clem doesn’t appear to be able to talk to anyone else, I think you should give it to him with both barrels. Hit him with your question list.”

  Andi had a moment of indecision. “If I’m going to do that, I’m going to first ask him to tell me who he is. I’ve been relying on information Phil gave Father Riley, but what if it’s possible that I haven’t been communicating with Clem at all? What if it’s someone else who’s getting one last earthly thrill at my expense?”