Beyond Dead: A Bridget Sway Novel (A Paranormal Ghost Cozy Mystery Series)

by Jordaina Sydney Robinson

  Edith nodded in approval. “Whoever is stealing this information must be someone who knows enough about your friendship to make the connection that Bridget would enlist your help.” Edith tapped her chin with her forefinger thoughtfully. “And what exactly are we expecting to gain from tonight?”

  “A shorter list of suspects, for one thing,” I offered, luxuriating in the warmth of the evening sun and letting the telling off from Eleanor drift away as I looked out over the patio.

  The hospital garden, though dramatically overgrown, was still beautiful. It was maybe twice the size of the garden at my new home and boasted three weeping willows, the Scarborough tree of choice. Birds called different greetings to each other from the trees while butterflies chased each other around the tall purple wild flowers below.

  “Who does it consist of at the moment?” Edith held her hands up as if she was going to count the suspects off on her fingers.

  Sabrina and I shrugged and spoke in unison. “Everybody.”

  Edith dropped her hands back to her lap. “Ah.”

  Sabrina stood, brushing the seat of her jumpsuit. “And we need to get a move on. I made it clear that the GBs would be observing everywhere Fenton related only in work and mandatory meeting time. Outside of that I said they’d be pulling personnel to focus on the bar so no one would scope out his place before we got there. You ready?”

  “Are you going to attempt tunnelling all three of us, dear?” Edith sidestepped a line of weeds and dusted down the back of her skirt.

  “I was going to since I'm the only one who knows his address.” Sabrina shook out her fingers, trying to loosen the tension in her shoulders in preparation.

  “Let me, dear.” Edith patted Sabrina on the shoulder. “It can be hard work the first few times and I know most of the ghost housing facilities in this area.”

  Looking relieved, Sabrina gave her the address and Edith tunnelled the three of us more smoothly than I could tunnel myself. We landed in the hallway outside Fenton’s apartment. Several generic paintings decorated the avocado walls, one between each door and each with its own spotlight. Somehow it wasn’t where I’d expected him living.

  “Et voila.” Sabrina pushed the door open after less than a minute fiddling with her lock picks. We followed her inside and closed the door gently behind us.

  After the brightness of the corridor the room felt shadowed. Shafts of light from the setting evening sun lit oblongs of gold on the floor from the two sash windows in the lounge area. I blinked, allowing my eyes to adjust.

  It was a studio apartment but Fenton had somehow made it cosy. The front door opened onto the lounge. In the centre, beneath the low coffee table, lay a thick navy rug. The two sofas had matching navy throws, and in the corner of the one sat a stack of battered paperbacks. French movie posters interspersed by the occasional watercolour decorated the pale walls. Again, not what I’d expected from Fenton.

  To the left the kitchen looked clean and tidy, a little tight but liveable, and through the doorway to the right was the bedroom. We all separated and I poked my head around the bedroom door. There was a small bathroom that led off the middle of the right-hand wall and looked as clean as the kitchen. A tall chest of drawers nestled between two sash windows on the front wall and a matching wardrobe stood at the foot of the bed. The fading sunlight lit the bright red throw, making it a crimson splash against the white bedding. The bed was flush against the far wall, with more battered paperbacks stacked on his nightstand

  Slippers lay ready and waiting at the foot of the bed. That tiny detail made me sad for Fenton’s death. I’d been thinking about it as if it were something that had happened to me, not him.

  “I feel a little uncomfortable,” I whispered, turning back to the others and finding Edith merrily snooping through the drawers in his kitchen and Sabrina trying to pick the lock on the small writing desk beneath the window in the lounge.

  “Why, dear?” Edith closed the drawer she was looking through and moved to the lounge and began checking behind pictures.

  “Because he’s dead and we’re snooping through his things.”

  Sabrina stopped what she was doing and turned to face me. “That was the plan.”

  I combed my fingers through my fringe. “I know.”

  “What is it, dear?” Edith worked her way around the pictures in the lounge, checking behind each one in turn. “Glasses on the nightstand? An open book?”

  “Slippers by the bed.”

  Edith stopped and gave me a closed-mouth sigh. “The man’s dead. He’s not coming back. We can’t do anything about that, and our snooping won’t change it. What it hopefully will do is allow us to catch his killer and bring them to justice, so you go back in that room and don’t come out again until you’ve rooted through everything.” She shooed me away with a wave of her hand and went back to her own snooping.

  Sabrina flashed me a grin and returned to her task. Considering myself told and somewhat reassured, I walked softly back into the bedroom and began carefully shuffling through his wardrobe, looking for anything unusual. Nothing. I sifted through his drawers, pulling my cuff over my hand so I could push his underwear to one side. Nothing. After the Jeremy debacle, I made sure to check every drawer and the back of the wardrobe for false panels too. Still nothing.

  I checked under each of the four corners of the mattress, beneath the pillows and through his nightstand. I even thought to flip through the pages of his paperbacks, all of which were Westerns. I was running out of places to check.

  Since we were all taking pains to be very quiet, I heard the lock click in the other room when Sabrina managed to open the drawer on the writing desk. I walked out into the lounge with a congratulations on my lips but they’d both vanished. I was about to call out when the handle on the front door twisted and the door was eased open with the slightest creak.

  I darted back into the bedroom, looking for a place to hide. Wardrobe? Bathroom? Under the bed? Noticing a lone golf club resting in between the bed and nightstand, I grabbed it and as silently as possible dropped to the floor and shuffled underneath the bed on my back. Fenton might’ve been annoying but his housekeeping skills were immense because there was no dust under there at all. I always figured if you couldn’t see it, there was no point cleaning it. I was glad he’d had a different mantra.

  “I’m telling you, it’s not here.” The familiar voice made my stomach sink.

  “It can’t be anywhere else.” Despite lying on the floor, I felt my shoulders sag as I recognised his co-conspirator as well.

  “Fine,” Pete snapped. “You check the bedroom, I’ll take the kitchen.”

  Charlie entered the bedroom and headed straight for the wardrobe. The doors creaked lightly, followed by the rattling of the metal hangers as he checked the clothes.

  He spoke low but his voice carried. “I think someone’s been here.”

  “I was about to say the same thing.” Pete’s voice came from the bedroom doorway but I hadn’t heard his footsteps at all. “Kitchen’s been rifled and all the pictures have been checked.”

  “Well, we’re here now. Let’s just double check everything and get gone.”

  Pete grumbled as he almost silently retreated back to the kitchen. The only noise I heard were his trouser legs whispering against each other as he moved. “What are we going to do about Bridget?” Pete’s voice floated through from the dining room.

  “I don’t know,” Charlie said with a sigh. “I don’t know who I’m more concerned about, her or Sabrina.”

  “This can’t be another Katie situation,” Pete said, his voice dropped lower.

  “Who’s Katie?” I mouthed to the bed frame. It didn’t answer me.

  “It won’t. We won’t let it get that far again. Besides, Oz has a good hold on Bridget. We just need to keep tabs on Sabrina.”

  “Have you met the woman?” Pete snorted and paused. “I think it’s best we watch Bridget too.”

  Charlie stopped moving hangers and walked
to the doorway. “Why?”

  “I think Oz is a little too close to maintain an objective assessment of the situation.”

  “You think he’s not doing his job?” Charlie asked.

  “No, I’m sure he’s doing his job. I just don’t think he’s all that objective when it comes to Bridget.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Pete’s voice came from the kitchen. “Look, let’s just be safe?”

  Charlie swore under his breath and came back into the bedroom. He knocked on a few different parts of the wardrobe, I assumed looking for false panels. I couldn’t help feeling a little smug that I’d already checked. Charlie closed the wardrobe doors, rooted through the drawers and finally moved to the nightstand, crouching so low to look in the cupboard I could see his thighs pressing on his calves. He closed the cupboard and shuffled the books on the nightstand. He backed up several steps to the bedroom door then stopped.

  I could hear Pete moving things in the lounge, but there were no sounds from inside the bedroom at all. I held my breath. What was Charlie doing? Had he left? Just then the throw was slowly folded up from the bottom of the bed and the left corner of the mattress began to rise. There was nowhere I could go. He was going to see me. How was I going to explain what I was doing? How was he going to explain what he was doing? Golf club or not, there was no way this was going to end happily.

  Abruptly, Charlie dropped the corner of the mattress and moved a few steps to the bedroom door. There was a metallic click then the faint creak of hinges.

  “Who are you?” Edith snapped, the muted thump of the door closing behind her added emphasis to her demand. “And what are you doing in here?”

  “The question is who are you?” Pete’s voice had the same menacing tinge as when he’d been threatening Fenton.

  “No, dear, it’s not,” Edith replied calmly. “State your names and your business here. Immediately.”

  “Certainly,” Pete said. “Right after you.”

  “If that’s the way you want it, dear.” I smiled at her haughty tone. No way Pete was winning this one.

  “What are you doing?” Pete asked.

  “I’m calling the police,” she said as if it was the most obvious reaction.

  “There’s no need for that.” Charlie stepped towards her. “I’m Simon, this is Derek. We were friends of Fenton.”

  “Then I’m very sorry for your loss, Simon.” I couldn’t see, but I was pretty sure a reproachful stare was being aimed at Pete for his lack of manners. “But that doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

  “We just wanted a keepsake.” Charlie had moved further away from the bedroom. “Something to remember him by.”

  “I suppose that would be okay,” Edith agreed slowly. “Choose something quickly, though, dear. I need to lock the door behind you boys.”

  “Actually,” Charlie paused, “perhaps you could help us. We were hoping to find his notebook. He used to write anecdotes in there all the time.”

  “A notebook? I’m sorry, I don’t recall seeing one.”

  “Thank you anyway.” Charlie’s light footsteps headed for the front door and it creaked open. “Come on, Derek.”

  Pete didn’t say anything but I heard the whispering of his trousers as he slowly approached the door. Charlie thanked Edith again and their footsteps retreated out into the hall. Someone walked across the lounge floor and, by the sound of it, started puffing the couch pillows. I didn’t move. Edith knew where I was so surely she’d come and get me as soon as it was safe.

  Seconds ticked past. I was beginning to doubt it was Edith in the room. Maybe Pete had abducted her and left Charlie to search? Surely Sabrina would’ve made some noisy attempt to rescue her? And I very much doubted that Edith would be that easy to abduct.

  I shuffled as covertly as I could to the far side of the bed, planning to get up out of the view of the door and sneak a look into the lounge. Still clutching my golf club, I was pushing myself to my feet when Sabrina’s face peered around the window frame from outside and shook her head, pointing to the lounge.

  “Did you forget something, dear?” Edith asked the empty apartment.

  Quickly, quietly, I lay back down and shuffled back to my hiding place, trying not to think what the carpet friction was doing to the state of my hair.

  “Think I lost my locker key in here,” Pete said from the doorway.

  “You haven’t lost it in here.” Edith was shuffling books on the writing desk. “Retrace your steps from the last time you had it.”

  “Will do. Sorry to have bothered you again.”

  “It’s no trouble, dear.”

  The door closed again. I waited. Edith pottered around in the kitchen.

  “It’s considered impolite to enter without knocking, dear,” Edith reprimanded someone.

  “I’m sorry.” Pete sounded disappointed. “Could I leave my details with you in case you do find that key?”

  “Of course.”

  Some paper rustled, then Pete thanked Edith again and closed the door. Seconds later the door opened and closed. The seconds ticked by.

  “They’ve gone this time,” Edith announced after checking the hallway.

  “How did you know he’d come back?” I rolled from under the bed. I felt the need to dust myself off, despite there being little dirt on me, and try to smooth down my hair. “Twice?”

  “That’s what I’d have done in his position.” Edith perched on the end of the bed as I opened the bedroom window so Sabrina could join the conversation. “Once I’d be expecting, but not twice.”

  “Standard PI trick,” Sabrina agreed.

  “Standard parenting trick,” Edith added.

  “What were they talking about?” Sabrina sat cross-legged on the fire escape and I flopped onto the edge of the bed. “I heard our names but couldn’t quite work out what they were saying.”

  I hesitated. I wasn’t sure what to say. I wasn’t even sure what I’d heard.

  “Come on, dear. If they were planning your murders, we need to know.”

  “No.” I shook my head at Sabrina whose eyes were growing wider by the second. “No, they were saying they should keep an eye on us because of what happened to someone called Katie.”

  “Who’s Katie?” Edith looked between us and Sabrina shook her head.

  Sabrina pulled a small notebook from her pocket and began jotting notes. “Did they say anything that might help me find her?”

  “No.” I shook my head and felt a strand of my hair flopping around. I took my hair down and redid my ponytail. “Just that they didn’t want a repeat of that situation.”

  “Okay.” Sabrina nodded. “I’ll see what I can find.”

  Before we could discuss it further the lock on the door rattled again. I hit the floor and rolled back under the bed. Edith managed to step out of the window and onto the fire escape with Sabrina. She closed the window just as the door opened. Could everyone in the afterlife pick locks? This was getting ridiculous.

  Light footsteps crossed the lounge and the sounds of shuffling books and the rattling of locked drawers echoed around the apartment. Other noises of quiet searching from the kitchen drifted to me and I toyed with the idea of peering out from under the bed to see if I could recognise who it was. The minutes dragged as whoever it was searched the rest of the apartment. Then footsteps approached the bedroom.

  As soon as I heard them reach the doorway, I could’ve kicked myself. What if this latest searcher checked under the corners of the mattress as I had, as Charlie had been going to? Why hadn’t I remembered that and hidden outside with Sabrina and Edith? When they eventually moved from the door it was to sit on the side of the bed, next to the slippers. The bed trembled gently as whoever it was sobbed into a pillow.

  Lying under the bed listening to the girl’s sobs felt like an eternity. Finally she sighed, her tears spent, and she got up.

  “I’m so sorry, Fenton. You were a good friend to me. I’ll miss
you.”

  Her voice was husky from her crying session but it was unmistakeable. It was Jeremy’s speakerphone girl. The girl who’d given him my name. Who’d given him Sabrina’s name. Had Sabrina gotten a look at her? Before I could decide if it was worth trying to snag a sneaky look at her face, the front door closed.

  “Damn it.” I rolled out from under the bed and made for the door, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, and if she saw me, well, we’d deal with those consequences later.

  I threw open the door, golf club in hand, and found someone else standing there instead.

  “Ms Sway.” Officer Leonard smiled politely. “Getting ready to tee off?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “I can’t believe we’re here again.” Oz stared at me with a slight shake of his head, his arms folded over his broad chest as he leaned casually against the two-way mirror. “I just – I can’t believe it.”

  We were in an interrogation room waiting for Officer Leonard to return. He’d confiscated my golf club and tunnelled me straight to the police station, escorting me into the interview room. I’d blown Oz’s whistle as soon as Officer Leonard had left.

  “You’re not even going to let me explain?”

  “Can you?” Oz raised an eyebrow that silently added “in a way that won’t get you into more trouble”.

  “Yes.” Probably. If I lied.

  “Ms Sway.” Officer Leonard smiled as he walked into the room. David followed him in, his eyes blatantly calling me an idiot.

  “We need a moment,” Oz said, moving to sit next to me at the table.

  Officer Leonard didn’t even glance at him. “You’ve had it.”

  “We need another.”

  “I’m sorry, Officer Salier, that’s not possible.” Officer Leonard flipped though several sheets of paper and sat opposite me at the table.

  “Why do you keep calling him officer?” I asked.

  Officer Leonard smiled genuinely and that put me more on edge than if he’d threatened me with afterlife long imprisonment. “Because he is.”