An older man with matted gray hair wearing a long, holey trench coat stood off to the side, glancing their way as he mumbled words to himself. To others, he might appear crazy. To Ryley, he was probably the one she related to best. He wasn’t alone. Nor was he talking to himself. The ghost speaking to him was watching Ryley and Logan, too.
“It’s not polite to stare.” Logan rested his hand on her back and prodded her forward. She hadn’t even realized she’d stopped walking.
Ryley quickly averted her gaze from the pair as heat flamed her cheeks. “Sorry.”
Not that she was embarrassed by her surroundings. There’d been a time in her life after her mom got sick that places like these kept her family fed. Her heart clenched at the thought she’d never thought to volunteer and give back. What did that say about her?
The woman behind the counter smiled as they approached. “Hungry?”
Logan answered for her. “We’re here to see Jim Cantina.”
“He’s not here, but the assistant manager, Peter, is in the back. Would you like to talk to him instead?”
“No, thanks,” Logan said.
“It’s kind of a personal matter. Do you know where we might could find Mr. Cantina?”
The woman dropped her gaze down Ryley as if trying to decide what type of threats they were. “He’s at the thrift store down the road.”
A man walked out of the backroom carrying more plastic plates. He smiled when he saw them. His dark, wavy hair needed a cut. The red flannel shirt looked like it had lasted through a million washes. The laugh lines around his mouth were deep. “You two here to help? We could always use some potato peelers.”
“Maybe another time,” Logan said, resting his hand on Ryley’s back.
The man’s gaze dropped to the connection, and Peter’s grin grew.
“They’re looking for Mr. Jim.”
“He’s at our thrift shop down the road. With any luck, he’s busy making more money so that we can buy more food so we can keep feeding these folks.”
“Must be hard since one of the contributors died,” Ryley said.
Peter frowned as he set down the stack of plates. “Not just one, but as of late, it seems she was the only monetary contributor. I’m not sure how much longer we’re going to be able to keep our doors open if things don’t pick up.”
“Don’t say that, Peter. Everything will work out.” The woman in the hair net touched his arm.
Peter patted her hand and crossed his arms over his chest. The young woman dropped her hand away when a look of dejection crossed her face.
“Kitty Lynch will most certainly be missed by all of us. She was a kind, gentle soul who never met a stranger,” Peter said.
Shouting behind them had them all turning in the direction. Two men fighting over a dinner roll.
“Now, now, gentleman. There’s more to go around,” Peter called out. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go find more rolls and get back to work.”
Peter headed off, and Logan ushered Ryley toward the door. The man in the trench coat was still watching as they neared. He stepped in front of Ryley, blocking her path. “She’s dead, you know, but she still visits.”
“Thank you,” Ryley answered and nodded at him and the ghost next to him. She didn’t even have to ask who he was referring to. These people saw a different side of Kitty than what she’d shown Ryley. Kind soul? Really.
“I told you she’s got the eye,” Trench Coat Man said as she hurried out the front door.
“You seem to make friends everywhere,” Logan said, climbing into the passenger side.
“What can I say, I have a friendly face.”
“Crazy people that talk to themselves think you’re personable. I’m not sure I’d take that as a compliment.”
“He wasn’t talking to himself.” She glanced in his direction. “You just couldn’t see the other half the picture, like hearing half the conversation when someone is on the phone. There was someone answering him and talking back.”
“Great. More ghosts. Maybe you should have asked him who killed Kitty. It might have saved us some time, so I could get back to my real job, the one that pays the bills.”
He had a point. They were getting nowhere fast.
He flipped the file open again. His eyes darted back and forth down the page. “The thrift shop wasn’t part of his routine before.”
“Maybe one of his workers quit.”
“Maybe.” He slapped the file closed and pointed to the sign as she neared the thrift shop.
Ryley parked the car, and they got out and walked inside Hand-Me-Downs. The scent of mothballs stung her nose. Rows and rows of clothes covered the main area. Against one wall was a shelf of used shoes. In the back were knickknacks and other items for the home. In the middle was the register. The place was empty. Not a single soul in sight.
“Maybe he’s taking a break or in the bathroom,” Logan offered and headed up the aisle.
They headed to the register to wait. “So, Logan Bane, PI. Looks like we have a few minutes to kill. Tell me how you got into the PI business and what type of grudge you’re holding against the Crews family.”
Chapter 28
“Have dinner with me, and I’ll share some of my secrets,” he said, shooting a smile in her direction.
He was a good-looking man; dangerous vibe, but still pretty to look at. Would she have to lie about those three questions, or was it possible he already knew the truth?
“I don’t mix business with pleasure.” Her words were a whisper between them, an she wanted to immediately call back.
“We aren’t business, so it would be all pleasure for both of us.” He stepped closer to her side. “But I should warn you not to believe all the rumors you hear.”
“You’re a flirt.” She lifted her gaze up to meet his.
“And you haven’t said yes.”
A man cleared his throat, breaking the connection that was building. The man from the pictures.
“You must be Jim Cantina,” Ryley said.
“I am. How can I help you?” he asked as he approached. His tired red eyes looked as if he needed a day off.
“I’m writing an article on Kitty Lynch,” Ryley lied, earning a raised brow from Logan.
“You are?” Jim asked.
“Apparently, it’s a new development,” Logan added.
“On the secret life of the rich and famous.”
Blood started to drain from Jim’s face.
“I understand she volunteered, serving at the homeless shelter.”
“Ah, right.” Jim nodded and moved to the other side of the register counter. “She did. We all loved her.”
“Like you?” Ryley asked, going in for the kill.
Jim coughed as if caught off guard. “Excuse me?”
Ryley pulled her purse open and took out the manilla file. She pulled out one incriminating picture for him to see. The lip lock outside the hotel. “Listen, I’m just here trying to get some answers.”
Jim lifted the picture, and his shoulders tensed. “Wow. I didn’t realize we were being watched. Does her husband know?”
“That’s not why we’re here,” Ryley said. “What changed from this picture to her death?”
Jim ran his hand through his hair and cleared his throat. “She killed herself, right? I’m not sure what changed, besides talking her into finding a new therapist. Did you know that her husband was banging the one woman that was supposed to help Kitty cope with her issues? Well, they were getting it on hot and heavy, but Kitty didn’t care. I was keeping her more than satisfied for a while. One minute we were great and she was fine and then next she wasn’t. We were fighting all the time. She was having terrible mood swings, and I broke things off.”
“Is that why you killed her?” Logan asked.
“God, no, I didn’t kill her. She killed herself,” Jim said.
“What were her mood swings about? Did she tell you?”
“She quit drinking, for one thing. That
made her plenty moody, but she was having trouble with Melinda Johns.”
“Who is that?”
“The co-owner of Creative Juices art gallery,” Logan answered for Jim.
“What kind of problems?” Ryley asked.
Jim shrugged. “She’d only tell me it was an artistic difference of opinion.”
“Thanks for your time,” Ryley said, picking up the picture and shoving it in the envelope. They headed for the door.
“You aren’t going to tell her husband, are you? He’ll stop the donation money, and we won’t be able to help those in need.”
“I thought that was all gone with her death. Your partner Peter seemed to be worried how he was going to keep feeding everyone.”
“It’s her husband’s account the donations come from.”
Ryley paused and turned around. “Mr. Cantina, you said that you and Kitty were always fighting, what about?”
Jim crossed his arms over his chest. “She wanted to leave her husband and for things between us to move more in a serious direction. I wasn’t ready to commit.”
“She was going to leave Mr. Lynch for you?”
“Yeah. She wanted us to be together.” Mr. Cantina frowned. “Only now that she’s gone, I wish I’d said yes.”
Chapter 29
“Maybe she’s mad that he didn’t want her,” Logan said, climbing into the car. “Maybe she’s pissed that her life was cut short.”
“The thing about maybes is they aren’t really answers,” Ryley said and drove him back to his office. And she needed definites in order to help Kitty into the light. And avoid further attacks from a ghost. She’d faced angry ghosts before, but she’d never been hurt by one. Kitty was different. Frightening.
She parked but didn’t turn off the car. “Mind if I keep your files for a few days?”
“Don’t mind at all. It will give me a reason to see you again.”
“Make sure it’s not through a camera lens, unless you want it broken.”
“I do what the client pay for,” he said, opening his door.
“I’ll talk to the client and make sure my brother knows he’s overstepped his bounds.”
“Bus tickets don’t lie, Ryley,” he said, leaning back while holding the door frame. “If your dad is here, and he’s as bad as Tucker believes, then you need someone to watch your back, and not just from some pissed off ghost.”
“Thanks,” she offered. “I will.”
He tapped the hood of the car and started to close the door.
“Oh, and Bane?” Ryley called out before he closed the door.
Logan paused and glanced back inside. “You’ve already changed your mind? I’m kind of irresistible like that.”
“Actually, do you have any contacts at the paper? I’d like to know the source behind the article about me. I’d like to be sure before I tear the man apart with my bare hands.”
His lips twitched. “Felix Wilson. Your brother already had me check.”
“Yeah, well, that bastard isn’t getting the property now. Not over my dead body.”
“Be safe, Ryley.”
She smiled and glanced at her watch as Logan shut the door. Lunch had long passed. Evening was just a few hours away. She’d have to wait until morning to go talk to Melinda Johns at Creative Juices.
She grabbed her phone and dialed the number she knew by heart.
“St. James, Thompson, and Davis.” The new receptionist’s voice was cheery.
“Hi, this is Tucker’s sister, Ryley. Is he available?”
“Oh, yes. One moment please,” she said, and there was a click on the line.
“Ryley.” Her brother’s voice always grounded her. The one person in the world who had her back just like he knew she had his. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. I left the hospital last night, and I’m okay. Hey, listen, are you busy? I was about to grab an early dinner at the diner if you’d like to join me.”
There was a pause on the phone.
“It’s okay if you're busy.” She said. “I’ll get it to go.”
“No, that’s fine. I’ll meet you there in twenty minutes. I just have to rearrange an appointment.”
“Thanks, Tuck.” She pulled out of the parking space and drove to the diner. It was practically empty inside. A few guys sitting at the counter. A mother and a kid eating an ice cream desert.
Maggie glanced up from pouring coffee for a customer seated at the counter. She smiled as Ryley slid into her usual booth.
Maggie appeared with a coffee and water and set them in front of Ryley. “This isn’t your usual eating time.” Maggie filled the coffee cup. “Do you need another favor?”
“No, but I appreciate your roommate and your help. Getting an inside look kept an innocent man out of jail.”
“That’s always a good thing.” She put the pot on the counter behind her and pulled out her order book. “So, what are you craving today?”
“Comfort food. Homemade, not too much.” Ryley said, never even looking at the menu.
“Not a problem,” Maggie said.
“Can I get another cup of coffee for my brother? He’ll be here any minute.”
“Of course,” Maggie answered and returned moments later with another cup. “Do you know what he wants to eat?”
“No, but the way he always picks from my plate, just bring him the same that you bring me.”
Maggie hesitated, concern flickering in her gaze. “I have to ask. Did you see the paper today?”
“Yeah, I did, and it’s lies. I didn’t know about the guy’s will.”
“I figured.” Maggie gave a reassuring smile. “You’d never do that. I’m sorry that picture was taken here.” She glanced over her shoulder. “We’ve had people asking about you all day. Wanting to know if it’s true. Wanting to know if there are specific times you come in. Some even wanting to hire you to deal with their ghosts. They’ve been giving me their phone numbers to pass on to you.” She pulled the slips out of her apron and placed them on the table in front of Ryley. “You’ve been the talk of the day.”
The butterflies in Ryley’s stomach dropped like stones, and she glanced around the diner again. People were whispering.
“I don’t suppose you have a hat and some sunglasses?” Ryley cupped a hand around her face, like that would really hide her from people’s stares.
“Actually, it’s the least I can do for letting that picture be taken here.” Maggie smiled. “Let me grab mine out of the back room, and I’ll be right back.
Maggie hurried off and returned with a baseball cap and a pair of sunglasses. She slipped the hat on Ryley’s head and put the glasses on the table. “I hope it helps. Holler if you need anything else.”
“I always do,” Ryley said, sipping her coffee.
The afternoon sun had started to set. Dusk crept in, the moon still rising and hidden behind clouds. The evening was just beginning. People would be getting home from work and eating dinner with their families. The quietness used to be comforting. Now it was a reminder of the voids in her life. Would she grow old and lonely? Who would attend her funeral, and would her spirit linger, more lost and confused than the ghosts she routinely helped? Would she be angry about how her life turned out, and haunt those who’d been around her? How long would she have to wait for someone to help her into the light?
The weight of her questions sat like a boulder on her shoulders. She rolled them trying to shake off her morose thoughts. She saw her brother’s car pull into the parking lot, and he got out and headed inside. He smiled as he approached, removing his suit jacket; he hung it over the booth’s backrest before sliding onto the cushion.
“Well, this is a nice surprise,” he said, lifting the coffee and taking a sip. “Thanks, Maggie. This is exactly what I needed.” He lifted the cup and smiled. That smile was short-lived when it dropped to the scraps of paper Ryley had opened. “What’s all that?”
“Some are job offers. Some are threats. People who recogniz
ed the diner in the paper.”
“Is that why you’re wearing a hat?”
Ryley pulled the rim down farther into her face. “I had to work with what I’ve got.”
“Is that why you wanted to eat with me? Need me to sue the bastard for slander?”
“Actually, no. I asked you here to share what I learned today,” Ryley said.
“Enlighten me,” Tucker said, meeting her gaze.
“You hired Logan Bane to find our father.”
Tucker spat out his coffee and grabbed a napkin, patting at the mess. “Did he tell you that?”
She shook her head. “I saw the file.” Ryley crossed her arms over her chest. “Were you going to tell me that his last movements were buying a bus ticket into town? Do you know where he is?”
Chapter 30
“No, not yet,” he answered.
“But you’re looking for him?” It was a question she didn’t even need to ask. Of course Tucker was looking for him. He had to be just as tired as she was of always looking over his shoulder.
“Ryley, he’s found us before. It’s only a matter of time before he finds us again no matter what name you use or how many times you change apartments. And now with your face in the paper? The bus ticket proves that he’s here, and this is the year we put a stop to it once and for all.”
Ryley leaned forward. “And how do you plan to do that? He hasn’t done anything illegal. He’s sent mail, but nothing in it is threatening to an outsider looking in. How are you going to stop him?”
“You let me worry about that,” Tucker said just as Maggie appeared with their plates. Even the smell of grilled cheese and fries did little to help squish her fears. Their father was closer this time than at any time in the past.
“How is this for comfort food?” Maggie asked.
“This is perfect.” Tucker met her gaze and smiled. “Our mother used to make this when we were growing up.”
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