High Court (Cid Garrett P.I. Book 2)

by Alexie Aaron

  “Is she older or younger?” Macy questioned.

  “Older. I was quite an embarrassment to her when she was in high school. I was fat and needed coke-bottle lenses to see. Cindy was the queen bee of the cheerleading squad with a brother who stumbled around and was the butt of many jokes, many of them hers.”

  “But no longer.”

  “I’m still teased. My boss calls me Clark, as in Clark Kent. And my soul family calls me Superman because of my extraordinary hearing.”

  “I call foul there. Cid, they call you Superman because you’re handsome and their hero,” Macy said bluntly.

  “Macy, handsome isn’t an adjective I would use when I look in the mirror.”

  “It’s because you still see the glasses and the baby fat. Like I still see braces when I smile,” she admitted.

  “What about you, do you have a family?” Cid asked to steer the conversation to a place he felt more comfortable.

  “Just my parents, Maureen and Maury Eggleston. They are affectionally called ‘the two Mauries’ by their peers. They met at a learn-to-fly-fish adult camp of all places. The instructor kept yelling ‘Maury’ and both of them would answer. After a few days, they made it easier and teamed up. The rest is history.”

  They had arrived at Mama Gee’s, a smart looking Italian restaurant from the deep green awning outside to the cloth tablecloths and napkins inside. Cid was glad he had rejected the idea that jeans could be worn anywhere when he entered the aroma-filled dining room.

  Macy, who knew the hostess from high school, chatted for a moment about a common acquaintance while they waited for their waiter to arrive. Macy introduced the hostess, Karen, to Cid. “Cid’s working on the High Court project.”

  “I’m so glad to see them do something about that eyesore,” Karen commented.

  The waiter arrived with an entourage of water-glass fillers, a wine steward, and Mama Gee herself.

  “Macy!” the stout woman exclaimed as she embraced the younger woman. “When I heard you were bringing a date, I made my special gnocchi, Mama’s Style of course.” She went on to describe the tantalizing ingredients.

  “That sounds wonderful,” Cid said.

  Macy smiled. “Gnocchi and, perhaps, a Stilton salad first?” she asked Cid.

  He nodded, pleased that someone else was making the decisions for a while. Macy had also accepted the wine Mama had in mind. After they left, Macy reached across and took Cid’s hand. “Don’t let this intimidate you. I know this is a business meeting. I haven’t gone starry-eyed, although with a little encouragement, I could fall for you, Cid.”

  “But I’m only here for a brief time. I’m not looking to relocate.”

  “I caught on to that with the I’m building a house in northern Illinois information.”

  “I knew you were bright,” he teased. “So, tell me really why we’re having this consult.”

  “The paper is haunted. I mean, the building the Gazette is in is haunted.”

  “Most old buildings have a residue of previous residents and incidents.”

  “My paper is actively haunted by two ghosts whom I have seen with my own eyes.”

  “Active how?”

  Macy took a sip of her wine before she told Cid all that had happened previous to her phone call to him. “My maintenance chief Sam Gilbert will testify to seeing both ghosts.”

  “How sure are you that the paperboy is Miguel Bautista?”

  “I knew the moment I looked out that window and saw High Court.”

  “Why were you in the archives?” Cid asked. “I imagine that you’d order a report before wasting your time on a research project.”

  “I was there early, my clerk had the day off, and I was curious. You see, the motel you’re renovating was the site of a murder, no, slaughter of a family back in 1964. Four of the six living there were snuffed out in minutes, and the perpetrator got away with it. I suspected strongly that’s why they hired you. Aside from your carpentry skills, you work with the best paranormal research team in the country.”

  “Why did you call me today?” Cid asked, nodding in appreciation to the server who brought their salads.

  “I want you to tell me, I’m not nuts, and that you can see the janitor and Miguel.”

  “Do you want them removed?” he asked.

  Macy lifted her salad fork and put it back down. “I’m not sure. Sam says the cleaning and maintenance staff are used to Mr. Baylor. The child though, he’s bleeding. That may be off-putting to other employees. It was to me,” she confessed.

  “I suspect that he’s looking for justice. The fact that he’s at the paper is interesting. Possibly in life, he thought of the Gazette as a place of refuge or of justice. Who would have been editor then?”

  “My father.”

  “Has your father seen this ghost?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t asked him. He’s such a realist, I doubt he would,” Macy said. She looked down at the expensive Stilton and decided she’d better attempt to eat some of it.

  “I could take a look around after we eat. I have a few things in my truck I’ll have to pick up first.”

  Macy felt a wave of relief wash over her. “Editor Grateful to Ghost Hunter.”

  “Don’t write the article yet. I haven’t done anything.”

  “You listened to me without a self-satisfied smirk. For right now, that’s enough to bring back my appetite.”

  “Well, then let’s set the ghosts aside and enjoy this marvelous meal,” Cid said.

  “We’re in full agreement, Cid.”

  Luminosa tried to move towards the town, but she felt the pull of the motel. Not even the graveyard seemed to be a place of refuge for the once proud, independent woman. She saw the little ghost flit back and forth and envied her mobility.

  “You there!” she called out as Faye circled back. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m guarding the motel.”

  “This is my domain.”

  “Well, I’m watching over the people who work here,” Faye said, readying herself for a pissing contest. “Why are you still here?”

  “I can’t leave here until the guilty are brought to justice.”

  “That I understand. The way you’re going about it, I don’t.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Faye moved over to the ghost. “You almost killed the thief.”

  “Thief?”

  “Okay, damn, let me give you a bit of my story, and you give me a bit of yours.”

  “Sounds reasonable.”

  “I was murdered in a fancy house down south. I woke up to find myself in a dark deep well. My bones atop many others. But I don’t remember who I am, who killed me, or why I was there. I’d like to seek justice too, but I need to find out who I am first.”

  “You spoke of a thief?” Luminosa reminded her.

  “Oh. Cid, the tall handsome carpenter - you must have seen him here. Anyway, he found my emerald pin - at least I assume it was mine as it pulls me; it’s my tether. Next thing I know, that woman, you know who I mean, that bossy one, well, she’s got it locked in a drawer. So…”

  “To you she is a thief.”

  “It was mine. How dare she keep it.”

  “Where is it now?” Luminosa asked.

  “Jesse has it in his truck. Cid took it and placed it in the truck so I would have no choice but to follow Jesse wherever he goes.”

  “But is that so bad?” Luminosa said. “The blonde man is handsome.”

  “And I’m dead,” she reminded the ghost.

  “True. But you can still go far. I can’t even go to where my children are buried.”

  “That’s a shame. What happened when the light came?”

  “What light? I saw no light, only the dead bodies of my children.”

  “Evidently, when others die, a light appears, and it takes them to Heaven. I suspect that’s where your children are.”

  “My husband too?” Luminosa questioned.

  “I suppose.
But, Luminosa, not all your children are there. You have two living children, and Miguel haunts the Gazette newspaper building.”

  “He always loved it there,” Luminosa remembered. “He would come home after school, get on his bike, and pedal to town.”

  “I thought papers were delivered in the morning?”

  “They are, and Miguel did that too. I think he liked the excitement of the paper. He told me he was going to be an invest… in… a reporter that digs into things.”

  “Investigative journalist. I think I may have been one in life, like Lois Lane.”

  “She’s in the comics with the crossword,” Luminosa argued.

  “Yes, yes, I know I’m not a cartoon. But I may have been a real live one. I have many characteristics that Lois had. But back to Miguel… Do you think he could have been working on a story for the paper?”

  “He was too young. They hired him as a paperboy,” Luminosa dismissed.

  “He could have been working on his own. He could have discovered something or someone here that was up to no good, and that…”

  “Got us killed?” Luminosa asked.

  “Yes. In your echo, I see him running by you. Telling you to hide. You’re standing there and…”

  “I know, I know. I have lived that awful day for so many years. Still, I no see who shot me and my children.”

  “Can you remember anything before? Something Miguel may have talked about? Something odd going on here at the motel?”

  Luminosa closed her eyes and concentrated, but try as she may, she could not remember much beyond that fateful day. “I remember some things. Pedro Senior leaving, promising me to come back. I feel it in my heart that he’s not coming back, but I can’t stop him. Elysian Fields? Good Catholics don’t go to…”

  “Good Catholics go to Heaven,” Faye suggested. “Cid says that Heaven is what you want it to be. Your Pedro wanted it to be a field that honors the warrior in him. He…”

  “He wanted his death to not to be a waste,” Luminosa filled in sadly.

  “Are you Catholic?”

  “Yes.”

  “Seems to me, good Catholics wear crosses, crucifixes. At least, they did in my day.”

  Luminosa’s hand slapped her chest. “In life, it was here. In death, I reject it. I cursed God.”

  “I’m not going to judge, but it seems to me that something is giving you all this power. You’re scary.”

  Luminosa frowned. “I need to find justice. I take what is given.”

  “But who or what is giving you this power? I fear that cursing God wasn’t a good move. You’ve said yourself that you’re stuck here.”

  “I’ve done bad things.”

  “That’s for you and God to determine. I understand he’s a forgiving sort.”

  “Why did he let this happen to us?”

  “I don’t know. I suspect that that whole free will thing is the loophole.”

  “I’m sorry, I no understand. Tell me. Slow,” she instructed Faye.

  “Okay, this is what I remember from Sunday school, so I may be a bit out of touch. God made us and gave us this wonderful world to live in, but he also gave us free will; that means we choose what we want and how we behave. It wasn’t God who killed your family. It was men. Men with free will.”

  Luminosa’s face clouded, and her eyes filled with tears. She looked at Faye and managed, “I need to go to confession.”

  “I can’t help you there. I’ll tell Cid. He’ll know what to do.”

  “Tell him, I go to confession after he finds who killed me and my family and brings them to justice.”

  “Luminosa, did you kill after you were dead?”

  “Maybe, it was a confusing time for me. They were covering something up. I got so mad. They are lying in the woods by the old road marker. I go now,” she said and disappeared.

  Cid walked into the quiet building behind Macy.

  “The maintenance second shift leaves at ten,” she explained. “Unless we are putting out a late edition. Then everyone gets overtime.”

  “How often does that happen?”

  “A few times in my career. I can remember my dad crawling in late quite often when I was a child. Now, we have computers and most breaking news is delivered through other media. Elections are a different story; We run 24/7 until all the ballots are counted or a winner is determined. We are primarily a local newspaper, and in the summer, we change a bit for the summer visitors. We adjust to the needs of the community.”

  “And this is why you not only survive but thrive.”

  “If I would have stayed at the Herald, I wouldn’t have a job right now,” Macy confessed.

  “I’m going to have to disagree. You would have adapted with your peers. You’re one smart newswoman.”

  “Oh gee, I now have two fans. You and my father,” she grumbled.

  “You need to open your eyes. The reception you got in the restaurant attested to more than two fans.”

  “No comment,” Macy said. “Come on, the stairs are around here…”

  “Where is the elevator?” Cid asked.

  “I don’t want to take the elevator,” Macy said.

  “One of the important rules in ghost hunting is not to avoid the ghosts,” Cid stated.

  Macy stopped. “You’re right. But what if we get stuck in there?” she asked.

  “Good thinking, let’s go to the restroom first.”

  “Men’s is down the hall on the right. I’m this way,” Macy said, walking across the hall and into the ladies’ restroom. The motion-activated switch turned the lights on. Macy rushed into one of the stalls and sat down.

  Macy didn’t like public bathrooms. Something had happened in her youth, while she was vulnerable sitting on the toilet, of which now she only had the fuzziest of recollections. But it had made her bladder shy in public restrooms for the rest of her life. When she agreed to come back to Stepner and take over the paper for her father, it was on the condition that he had a private bathroom installed in her office suite.

  Here, in the first-floor bathroom, her stubborn bladder needed encouragement. “Relax,” she told herself. Macy took a deep breath and listened to the drip of one of the faucets. She picked up her phone and typed a text to the maintenance department, notifying them of the drip. The motion sensor must have cycled and sensed an empty room because the lights went out. “Damn!” Macy cursed. She waved an arm, but the stall blocked her motion from being seen by the sensor. Time was not on her side. Cid would soon wonder what had happened to her, so she settled down and listened once more to the dripping faucet, which now sounded like it was getting worse. She also felt a cold draft coming from under the stall door.

  The lights went on.

  “Hello? Cid?” she called out. “I’ll just be a moment.”

  No one answered. Just the drip of the faucet.

  Drip, drip, drip, slide, drip, slide, splash, drip, splash, burble.

  Macy stared as a red liquid oozed under the door of her stall. She lowered her head and saw a familiar pair of bloody bare feet. She sat up straight and pounded out a text to Cid. Help! Ghost in Bathroom!!!!!

  The door from the hall opened. Instead if it being Cid, Macy heard the squeak of wheels that she identified as a mop bucket being pushed. It added a high-pitched aria to the rhythm of the spectral blood hitting the floor. Macy’s body was quaking in fear and her breathing had become rapid. There was no way out. She fought the blackness that wanted to take her away. No! I will not faint!

  She heard Mr. Baylor growl, “What are you doing in here? Get! There’s a lady trying to do her business. Get!”

  Macy heard the splash of a foot stamped in a puddle before the slow sliding steps moved away from her.

  “Sorry about that, Miss Eggleston,” Mr. Baylor called. “The boy doesn’t understand.”

  “Thank you,” Macy managed as her bladder let loose.

  Cid hit the door, puzzled why it wouldn’t open. He gave a running start and hit the ladies’ room door wi
th his shoulder. The now unobstructed door flew inwards as Cid did. He hit the floor; it hit the wall.

  “What the hell!” Macy asked, struggling to pull up her panties.

  “Are you alright?” Cid asked, rubbing his shoulder while he lay on his back on the floor. “The door wouldn’t open, and then it did.”

  Macy flushed and peeked her head out of her stall and into the bathroom. She struggled to decide between washing her hands first or going over to see if she could help the fallen man.

  “I’m okay,” Cid said, wincing as he rose. “I thought you said there was a ghost in here.”

  “Two Ghosts Greet Editor in Bathroom,” Macy said, hitting the soap dispenser with her hand. She soaped up her hands. “One even talked to me.”

  “Well, that’s nice. Did it…”

  “He not it. Mr. Baylor,” Macy supplied and rinsed her hands.

  “Did Mr. Baylor have anything to say?” Cid asked.

  “He told whatever was bleeding in front of my stall to, and I quote, Get! There’s a lady trying to do her business. Get! unquote.”

  Cid smiled. “I like this Mr. Baylor.”

  “He’s growing on me,” Macy acquiesced. “He apologized for the boy. I thanked him, and then you burst through the door.”

  “I was washing my hands when your text came in. I rushed over to find the door locked.”

  “It wasn’t, but maybe that was Mr. Baylor too?” Macy guessed. “Cid, I’m not sure I can handle this bleeding boy.”

  “We need to find out what he wants from you. I think he’s attached himself to you.”

  “I don’t even like kids,” Macy admitted glumly.

  “I think he thinks you can figure out what happened to him and his family.”

  “I was trying to when he drew me away from the archives the first time,” Macy complained.

  Cid withheld the information that the boy was protecting Faye at the time. “Well, why don’t you show me the hot spots. I doubt that they will appear again. It takes a lot of energy to do that.”

  “Is that why it was so cold in here?”

  Cid nodded. “They pull the heat out of the areas around them and use it as energy. Sometimes it’s batteries. You may want to check your cell phone.”