“Hey,” Felix grumbled. “You can’t make that deal; I’m going to fight her in court.”
“And surely lose,” Oscar said.
“So, what do you say? Delgado asked.
Ryley flicked the card and then held it out to Oscar between her fingers. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”
Oscar’s laughter followed Ryley out of the diner, as did Delgado’s question. “What the hell is a psychic going to do with a damn farm?”
The door shut behind her. The sun had drifted below the horizon. The streetlights had just turned on. Evening was coming fast.
She slid into her car as a text from Rosalind appeared with Kitty’s address.
Ryley stared at Oscar as she started the car. Delgado, Felix, and Oscar were arguing. She turned her gaze to the mother with the two kids. The older boy was watching Ryley. He nodded and smiled.
She wiggled her fingers in a wave and pulled out of the parking lot and drove across town to the iron gates blocking unwanted guests from the mansion just beyond the hedges. This house and neighborhood were all old money. Each home was passed down from generation to generation. None were ever for sale, not even after the owners died. These were the type of people with iron-clad wills.
She pulled up to the gate and pressed the button. After she gave her name, the gate opened, and she drove down the long drive.
The yard was lush and green. The old sprawling oak trees were so enormous that one person couldn’t even put their arms around their trunks. The hedges were all the same height. The house at the end of the circular drive stood three stories tall and sprawling in white concrete with Grecian style columns running the length of the porch.
Rosalind’s Jag was parked behind a black town car with deep tinted windows. Ryley parked and slipped out, lifting her gaze to the second floor. A teenager was standing at the window watching her.
One day, he’d be the owner of this house, and he’d stare at unwelcomed guests and learn the scowl his ancestors had mastered through the ages.
The door opened, and Rosalind stepped out with the same man in the picture with Kitty. Instead of the tuxedo, he was dressed in a suit. His hands were inside his pockets, and his face, no matter how he was trying to appear relaxed, held a bit of tension beneath his strained smile.
Ryley approached, leaving her bag in the car.
“Ryley. I’m so glad you could make it,” Rosalind said.
“Of course,” Ryley answered.
“Ryley, I’d like to introduce Christopher Lynch. Chris, this is Ryley, the woman I told you about.”
Christopher offered Ryley his hand, and she took it, holding his gaze.
He gestured to the door. “Please come in.”
Rosalind led the way to a sitting room just off of the main entryway.
The room looked straight off the pages of the rich and famous magazine. Strategically placed beige couches. Framed photos and crystal candlesticks decorated the mantel over a fireplace that dominated the far wall.
Christopher went straight to the liquor cart and made a drink. “What’s your poison, Ryley?”
“I’m fine. I have to be to work in a few hours.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “What is it you do?”
“Bartender,” Ryley answered.
Christopher turned with a wine glass in his hands and offered it to Rosalind, and he’d poured himself a bourbon.
He took a seat next to Rosalind and sighed. “I appreciate you coming, Rosalind, but as you can see, Phillip and I are holding up just fine.”
“Is Phillip the teen upstairs?” Ryley asked.
Christopher’s brows knit.
Ryley pointed to the ceiling. “He was watching me from the window.”
Christopher’s shoulders relaxed, and he sat back in the chair. “He’s holding up as well as can be expected.”
“One day he’s going to have to deal with those emotions,” Rosalind said. “Isn’t that right, Ryley? You know from first-hand experience.”
Ryley nodded; unsure what story Rosalind had told the family to explain why Ryley was there. “I lost my mother when I was about his age. It can be a tough time when the realization hits home.”
“Yes, well. Kitty went from staying home all the time and not wanting to be disturbed until about the last six months. It seemed she’d had more important things than her family to attend to. She’d never be mistaken for parent of the year.”
“Takes one to know one,” a voice said from the entryway, earning everyone’s attention.
“Phillip,” Christopher said and rose from his seat. “Would you like to join us?”
He stood leaning against the doorframe. An air of aggravation rolled off the teen.
“No.”
“Great,” Ryley said, rising to her feet. “Maybe you can show me around.”
Phillip's eyes narrowed. “What are you, a child shrink?”
“Nope,” Ryley said. “Bartender. Remember? Just curious to see how the other half lives.”
Phillip glanced to his father. “Trust me, lady, run the other way.”
“Phillip,” Christopher growled. “Do not speak to my guests that way.”
Phillip walked off while his father was in mid-tirade, following him.
Ryley turned to Rosalind. “What did you tell them my reason was for being here?”
“I told him you were a private eye and could help on the case.”
Ryley’s mouth parted. “Why would you tell them that?”
“Well, you are a private eye. Only the ones you’re after are of the supernatural kind.” Rosalind sipped her wine.
A coldness surrounded Ryley chilling her to the bone and reminding her they probably weren’t alone. The ghosts that liked to stay out of sight were more times than not, the hardest to send into the light. Ryley’s gut told her it wasn’t because Kitty was shy. It was a tactical move watching the prey until ready to pounce.
Chapter 20
Christopher Lynch returned to the room, running his hand through his hair. “I apologize for his behavior. When he lost his mother, he seems to have lost his manners.”
“It’s not a problem. When I lost my mother, I was ten times worse than that.”
“Yes. Well.” Christopher retook his seat and picked up his glass again and took a long swig. “Where should we start?”
“Tell me about your wife.” A sudden chill surrounded Ryley yet she refrained from rubbing her arms.
“When we first met, Kitty was an amazing woman. We married a year later with a big wedding. We were happy for years until one day, we weren’t.”
“What do you suppose happened?” Ryley asked, not wanting to let on that she’d read Kitty’s file.
“I assume it was due to me being home less often. I had late meetings to close deals. I guess I didn’t show her the attention she needed, so she sought it elsewhere.”
Ryley clasped her hands together and bit her tongue from asking the question she was dying to ask. “Where did she start spending her time?”
“She found a new nonprofit to work at, and she helped in soup kitchens. She stayed busy looking for anything that would give her purpose.”
“She couldn’t find that in taking care of Phillip?”
“Boarding school. He was a troubled child growing up, always getting expelled and in trouble and acting out.”
Well, it didn’t look like it helped.
“So, with Phillip gone and you always at work, I can see where she might have been lonely and wanted to get out of the house.”
The chill around Ryley grew, and she ignored it.
“Yes, well. Even that didn’t help. It wasn’t until a few months back when the smile returned to her face. It just so happens to be when she was working late and getting late-night phone calls.”
Ryley couldn’t hold back anymore. “Late-night phone calls from whom?”
He signed. “She wouldn’t say, and when she did, it was always an excuse.”
“You believe she wa
s cheating on you?”
“I don’t believe she was. I know she was,” Christopher said.
“Show her.” Rosalind prodded his arm.
Frowning, Christopher pushed a manila envelope across the table that separated them. “I have proof.”
Ryley picked it up and opened it. In the first picture was Kitty in living color and not her ghostly form. She was in a man’s embrace and in a heated kiss outside a hotel room door.
“You had someone following her?” Ryley asked.
He nodded. “I had to know.”
Ryley flipped through the rest and came across the last photo of Kitty, leaning against her sports car and the man from the hotel caressing her face. It wasn’t the picture that interested her. It was the angle at which it was taken. The driver’s side mirror got a close up of the man in the car taking the picture. Logan Bane had been the private investigator.
“Can I keep these?”
“Yes, the originals were emailed,” Christopher said.
Ryley bet they were. “Did you show them to the police?”
“Yes.” Christopher swallowed hard. “They said it’s a suicide, and there is nothing they can do.”
The hair rose on Ryley’s arms, like she’d just gotten an electric shock. Kitty might not be materializing for Ryley to see, but she was making her presence known. And not so subtly. She shifted on the beige sofa, shying away from the odd sensation of Kitty being in the room without being visible. This was new territory for Ryley.
“Are you sure it wasn’t?” She had to figure out what, if any, of this she could use to get Kitty to move on. Was this why she was lingering? And why the heck was she attacking Rosalind? Would finding her killer help her move on or understand why she was haunting the doctor? Was it possible she really had taken her own life?
“She would never abandon her son like that,” Christopher said.
Ryley looked at Rosalind, who was checking out her fingernails. She wouldn’t be getting any help from the doc, which was a little off. “Excuse me, but didn’t you two send him to boarding school?” Ryley challenged
Christopher’s jaw tensed. “We did that so he’d learn some manners. Besides, Phillip is the beneficiary of her life insurance. She removed me from it a few years ago. Probably when I was working so much and she believed I neglected her. But she had to know they won’t payout if it’s ruled a suicide.”
Money. Not love. That’s why Ryley was here. How much was the death benefit? What was the price of a woman’s life?
“Where did Kitty… where did it happen?”
Christopher’s phone rang. “Rosalind, can you show Ryley the studio? I’ve got to take this.”
“Of course.”
Ryley followed Rosalind through the mausoleum of a house and out the back doors off the kitchen. An obscenely large pool stood with a pool house next to it.
Rosalind walked to the doors and pushed it open.
The open-concept house had a kitchen and living area. Rosalind moved across the space toward a wooden door. She threw it open and stepped inside. A partially sheet-covered canvas sat on an easel. Finished paintings were leaning against the walls. The entity who’d been dogging her steps since she’d arrived crowded closer. Ryley could swear she could see her breath.
Rosalind didn’t seem to feel it as she gestured toward the bathroom door. An antique clawfoot tub sitting inside. “She was found in the bathtub. Both of her wrists were slit, and they found the knife she used at the bottom of the tub when they drained it.”
“Rosalind…” Ryley’s shoulders deflated.
“I know, but she didn’t do it,” Rosalind said.
Ryley turned to her. “Why do you think she didn’t? Give me one good reason.”
“If she wanted to just die to leave her life, why in the world is she still sticking around? Please, Ryley. You have to help us get to the truth. Talk to Kitty and find out what really happened.”
“What if it’s something you don’t want to hear?” Ryley glanced out the window toward the house. “What if Christopher is responsible?”
The door to the room they were in slammed shut, making Rosalind jump and Ryley’s heart race.
“See! She’s still here,” Rosalind whispered.
Ryley yanked open the door and gestured for Rosalind to leave. “I’ll meet you back inside.”
Rosalind didn’t argue. She didn’t wait. The doc just sprinted out the door and around the pool toward the house.
Ryley glanced at her watch and moved back inside the room with the paintings.
“I know you’re here,” she called out, a small white puff of air punctuating her words.
Ryley lifted the sheet on the painting when she felt the rush of cold air blow through her in a blur of movement.
Ryley lowered the sheet. “Fine, I won’t peek. Not yet.”
The early evening light was waning. The moon rose higher, thrusting the room into that eerie twilight space, where the veil between the worlds was thinnest.
“Why are you here?” Ryley whispered.
She moved around the room, glancing from one painting to the next. There was a progression in Kitty’s paintings—something about the colors or the subject that had changed from light to a much darker mood.
Ryley stepped into the bathroom and froze. The room reverted to another time. There was sunlight shining in from the skylight down on the tub where Kitty’s dead body was lying in a pool of blood. Her cut wrists were hanging over the side.
Ryley blinked, and the image was gone.
Had that been her imagination or had Kitty put that image in her head? “Neat trick.”
There was an instant when it felt like the pool house was inhaling, a pregnant pause. Suddenly, Ryley’s arms felt like razor blades were carving paths in her flesh. Her breath froze as she tried to make sense of the phantom pain.
“Get out.” The words were screamed in Ryley’s mind, scratching her subconscious like cut glass.
“Ouch.” She growled and lifted her sleeve. Two red lines formed on her skin resembling the track of fingernails. “Son of a…that was unnecessary. You want to play?
Ryley held her arm and moved back into the room and yanked the sheet from the easel, exposing the canvas beneath.
Her breath caught, and she covered her mouth with her hand.
Chapter 21
Attached to the canvas with a tack was a picture. A man and woman were lying on a bed, naked from the waist up. The picture was taken through a curtain into a room Ryley recognized.
Only the woman in this picture wasn’t Kitty. It was Rosalind.
And the man wasn’t the guy from the hotel; it was Kitty’s husband, Christopher Lynch.
“What’s that they say about keeping your friends close but your enemies closer?” Stretch said, appearing next to Ryley. “Those two look might cozy.”
“Where were you? A spirit just attacked me.” She lifted her arm and shook it in front of Stretch’s face.
Stretch waved in dismissal. “You’re still in one piece. Your precious doctor should have warned you she’s the bad influence.”
It was in that moment Ryley realized her trusted shrink was just as guilty at being an imperfect human, just like Ryley and Stretch. It should have brought her comfort to know they were cut from the same cloth. It didn’t.
She frowned at the realization.
Was this a setup? Why hadn’t Kitty wanted Ryley to look? It was incriminating. The picture would have pointed fingers.
Ryley yanked the picture off and opened the manilla envelope holding pictures of Kitty’s affair. She was about to stuff the picture inside when she paused at the words stamped on the back. Logan Bane, PI. “Man, he gets around.”
“If only I wasn’t dead. I’d fight you for him.” Stretch chuckled.
With a scowl at her ghost sidekick, Ryley slid the picture inside the envelope and closed the latch. Christopher and Rosalind were huddled together in the kitchen when Ryley returned. Their heated discussion
stopped the second Ryley opened the door.
“I have to go,” Ryley headed toward the front door without making eye contact with either cheater.
Rosalind’s heels clicked on the tile as she hustled after her.
“Well?” Rosalind put her hand on the door frame, stopping Ryley from getting in her car.
Ryley ground her molars together, seething at how her shrink was trying to play her. “I have one question,” Ryley said, trying hard to rein in her anger. “You know I’m not one to judge. God knows I’ve done things I’m not proud of.”
“Ryley, what is it?”
“You’re sleeping with Christopher Lynch. Your client’s husband?” Ryley shook her head in disgust. “When did it start? Was it after the first meeting, or did you wait until Kitty started having her own affair?” God, the ethics of it stunned Ryley.
Rosalind’s mouth parted.
“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” Ryley said and glanced upward. Phillip was back in the window, watching them. “Listen. I will help Kitty cross over, but I can’t do that if you keep secrets from me. No wonder she’s haunting you.”
“How did you know?” Rosalind asked.
“She had a private investigator, and someone attached the picture to her easel. As if she was about to paint it. I would have considered it incriminating evidence if she hadn’t tried to stop me from looking at it. It was like she didn’t want me to see it.”
“Do you think if that picture had been found, it would have framed Christopher and me?”
Phillip vanished from the window. She snorted. “I think had the picture been there when the police took Kitty’s body out, one or both of you would be in jail.”
“How did it get there?” Rosalind asked, wrapping her arms around her body.
“Maybe the kid? Maybe one of the maids? I don’t know the answer to that, but I’ll be sure and ask Kitty when she starts talking to me,” Ryley said, climbing into her car.
She drove to her home across town, locked the pictures in her car, then grabbed a change of clothes.
When she walked into the bar, Kent was carrying a stack of clean glasses, and prepping for their busy night. “Sorry, I was running late.”
Grave Wrong (Lost Souls Society Book 1) Page 10