Final Call - A Mary O'Reilly Paranormal Mystery (Book 4)

by Terri Reid

  Mary exhaled, her breath appearing in a puff. If she cut across, she would easily save ten minutes of walking and she was getting cold. But Dan’s warning had her feet hesitating.

  “Dan was a drama major,” she reminded herself. “Get a grip.”

  She walked into the park. Giant old trees coated in snow lined the paths. Streetlights reflected off the ice at the skating rink. Thick icicles hung like a mouthful of jagged teeth from the arch of the stone bridge. The administrative building was dark, the parking lot empty. Mary moved toward the center of the park.

  She looked ahead. Shadows from the trees and large bushes lay across the path and made the way seem threatening. She looked to either side, the streetlights seemed to be dimmer tonight and the traffic noise from Empire Street even further away. All of the residents of Freeport were safe inside their homes, warm and cozy.

  She took a deep breath. What is wrong with me? She wondered. I’m an ex-cop, I’m a private eye and I can kick butt if I need to. And no one is going to intimidate me!

  She stepped forward onto the path and started to walk briskly in the direction of her house. She could hear the snow crunch beneath her feet, feel the wind raw against her cheeks, and breathe in the fresh scent of snow and pine. She was energized. She was pumped.

  A twig snapped behind her.

  She was freaked!

  She broke into a run, her boots clomping against the path, her eyes tearing in the wind. She jumped small snowdrifts and ran around larger ones. She used the playground as an obstacle course for anyone following, veering around each piece of equipment and zig-zagging across the grounds. She dashed past the Little League diamonds, using the dug-outs as shelters and she dashed through the bleacher section of Little Cubs Field, the Freeport replica of Wrigley Field, before finally reaching the edge of the park.

  Winded, she placed her hands on her knees and took several deep breaths. She lifted her head and looked behind. Nothing stirred in the park. Not a soul was in sight. Feeling more than a little foolish, Mary decided to make the best of things and jogged the rest of the way home.

  Once she was out of sight, a lone figure stepped out from behind the closed concession stand at the far end of the Little League fields, looked in her direction for a few moments and then turned and walked away

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Hezekiah reappeared in the living room of his home. The parsonage was not showy, but it had been their home for fifteen years. It was the only home his children had ever known. He looked around it with pride. This was the home he had given his family. This was his legacy.

  “Momma, why do we have to move?” Vivian asked. “Why do we have to leave our home?”

  Lucinda carried a box across the room and began to pull books from the shelves. “Well, sweetie, it’s because the church is going to want a new minister and he and his family will want to live here,” she said. “This house doesn’t belong to us, it belongs to the church.”

  “But Daddy always said this was our house,” Alvin argued. “He always said we had it because of the sweat of his brow.”

  Lucinda sighed and sat down on the edge of the sofa. She looked tired, he thought, there were bags under her eyes. He’d bet she wasn’t sleeping.

  “Alvin, what your daddy meant was the house was ours because he did so much for the church,” she explained.

  Rudy walked over with an empty box and set it next to his mother’s. “Mrs. Baker says the church should just hire you. She said that you did more for the congregation than Daddy ever did.”

  Lucinda placed her hands on her cheeks and shook her head. “No, no, I did no such thing,” she cried. “Your father was a good, strong man who did wonderful things for this church.”

  Rudy shrugged. “Mrs. Baker says all he ever did was flap his jaws on Sunday, all the good works were done by you.”

  “Well, God bless her, I know she means well. But she does no honor to this family by spreading those disparaging remarks about your father.”

  Hezekiah was shocked. Mrs. Baker was one of the members of the board. She was a learned and powerful woman. Rudy must have been mistaken. Mrs. Baker loved his sermons. Rudy must have been mistaken.

  His thoughts turned to the board members and suddenly he found himself back in his church, outside the board room. He slipped through the door and was not surprised to find the members meeting together.

  “A great asset to the church,” Mrs. Baker agreed.

  “I’ve never witnessed a better example of Christ-like behavior,” Mr. Busch, the senior board member added.

  “I’ve received dozens of calls today,” Miss Williams, another board member, said, “All supporting this idea.”

  Hezekiah smiled. This was more like it. The board and congregation were acknowledging what he’d done for the members. Perhaps they were thinking of erecting a memorial for him. He thought about what he’d like to have named for him. The Hezekiah Johnson Memorial…he paused, contemplating his options…Third Baptist Church. Yes, renaming the church after him. That would be something.

  His attention was drawn back to the conversation. “Although it’s highly unusual, I think it’s a perfect solution,” Mrs. Baker said.

  “Let’s take a vote,” Mr. Busch suggested.

  The entire membership of twelve voted in favor of the proposal. Hezekiah waited with excitement for the official proposal to be read for the minutes.

  “The board of the Third Baptist Church…,” Miss Williams read.

  “Soon to be known as the Hezekiah Johnson Memorial Third Baptist Church,” Hezekiah inserted.

  “…has voted by unanimous agreement that we extend the position of minister to Lucinda Johnson. That we continue to pay her at the salary her dead husband, Hezekiah, received, and that we pay for her to continue her education to receive a degree in Ministry.”

  “What?” Hezekiah shouted. “No! Lucinda can’t be the minister. I’m the minister. I’m the one – not her.”

  “How much more education is she going to need before she receives her degree?” Mr. Busch asked.

  “I called the college where both she and Hezekiah were students. She was a year behind him in school and left school in order to marry him and help him build his career,” Mrs. Baker explained. “The dean remembered Lucinda and said she was one of his brightest students. He confidentially added that her grades were much better than her husband’s.”

  “Lucinda was a good student? Why hadn’t I known that?” Hezekiah wondered.

  “The dean had already made some calls with some very prominent churches, setting up an assistant ministry for Lucinda,” Mrs. Baker added. “He was surprised when she turned them down.”

  “She turned them down?” Hezekiah shook his head. “She had great opportunities and she turned them down for me?”

  The board, done for the night, congratulated each other for a job well done and left the board room. The last one out turned off the light. Hezekiah was left standing alone in the dark.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Mary jogged to the corner and took a deep breath. She could tell she wasn’t in the same shape she’d been in last fall when she would run to Krape Park every morning. An ache near her heart, that had nothing to do with her physical prowess, grew as she remembered her early morning runs with Bradley, racing him through the park. In the span of a few moments he’d tried her, judged her and convicted her.

  She turned the corner and walked toward her home. Well, there was nothing she could do about it now, she decided. The next move was his.

  As though her thoughts became reality, Mary saw the cruiser parked in front of her house. Her stomach dropped; she really didn’t want another confrontation today. She took a deep breath, Well, looks like I’m in for another fun night.

  The cruiser’s door opened as Mary neared her house. Bradley stepped her out and met her at the porch.

  “Bradley,” she nodded at him.

  “Miss O’Reilly,” he replied curtly.

  Okay, tha
t’s it! This is stupid.

  She stormed past him and jogged up the steps. She unlocked the door and left it open, walking through the front room and stopping at the closet.

  He followed and closed the door behind him.

  Mary tore off her scarf, mittens and hat and threw them in the closet. Her coat followed. Then she turned on him. Her eyes were filled with fire, her hands placed solidly on her hips.

  “Listen to me, Chief Alden,” stressing his name sarcastically. “You may not like the decision I made regarding Jeannine.”

  “I don’t want to talk about Jeannine,” he said.

  “Too bad,” she tossed back. “I did what I thought was right, ethically. You might not agree.”

  She paused. “No, you obviously don’t agree and I’m sorry, but not for what I did. I did what was right. So, if that ruined our relationship for you, fine, I can take that. I think it stinks, but I can take it.”

  She stormed over to him and poked him in the chest. “But if you think you can play these asinine games like we haven’t known each other, worked with each other and cared for each other for the past four months, you can get yourself another consultant, because I quit.”

  She turned around and started to move away when he caught her arm and turned her back to him.

  “I can’t trust you anymore,” he said.

  She winced, but didn’t back down. “That’s your choice.”

  “You betrayed me,” he argued.

  “No, I didn’t,” she said. “I told you as much truth as my client would allow.”

  “I asked you on New Year’s Eve if you had seen her,” he yelled. “I asked you and you lied to me.”

  She put both hands on his chest and pushed him back towards the door. “Get out of my house,” she said through gritted teeth. “I won’t be called a liar in my home.”

  She pushed him again and he stumbled back. “Fine, I’m going,” he shouted, and slammed out the door.

  Mary sniffed back the tears, but it was useless, they overflowed onto her cheeks. She slowly lowered herself to her couch. “I’m such an idiot,” she said, wiping away the tears.

  “Actually, I think you were great,” Mike said, appearing next to her on the couch. “An Irish spitfire, who would have thought? He’s lucky you didn’t punch him in the nose.”

  “I thought about it,” she admitted.

  “So, do you think he’ll remember you told him the truth about Jeannine on New Year’s Eve?”

  “I hope so,” she said. “I hope he remembers in the middle of the night and he can’t sleep. I hope he’s plagued with guilt. I hope he’s miserable.”

  “Still love him, huh?”

  She nodded, wiping away a few more tears. “Yeah, it stinks.”

  Mike laughed softly. “Yeah, it does.”

  She sighed, dropped back against the couch and rubbed her hand against her chest. “Why didn’t anyone ever tell me that being in love hurts so badly?”

  “Because when the good parts happen you forget about the bad parts.”

  “That’s not fair,” she said, shaking her head. “There ought to be a warning label. I mean, really, there’s a warning label on a cup of coffee, for heaven’s sake. Why isn’t there one for love: Danger, can cause emotional highs and lows, bouts of depression, binges of chocolate consumption and irrational behavior.”

  Mike nodded. “And should you experience an erection for four or more hours, you should call your doctor.”

  “Shut up!” Mary choked, laughter breaking through the tears. “You are so rude.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, I am. Feeling a little better?”

  Sitting up she turned to him. “You really are a good friend.”

  “Mr. Watson to your sexy Sherlock Holmes,” he reminded her.

  “Okay Watson,” she replied. “Let’s get some work done.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Once she accessed her Internet, she found that Bradley had sent her the notes from his interviews with all of the suspects. She cross-referenced those names with the list Dan sent her and found they had covered most of their bases. The saddest part was, there were so many people in the community who had a good reason to see this woman dead.

  “I can’t believe this woman,” Mary said. “What in the world makes someone act like this?”

  “You’d like to believe it was something traumatic in their childhood, right?” Mike asked her.

  Nodding, she had to admit that’s where her thoughts were leading.

  “Sometimes, Mary, people are just nasty and they like power,” he said. “No reason, no cause, they just like to be bullies.”

  It just didn’t ring true to her. People weren’t born bad or nasty. Something occurred somewhere in their lives that taught them to protect themselves with hard exteriors, so they weren’t hurt again.

  “I just don’t believe that,” she said. “I believe all people are basically good and circumstances change them.”

  “And that’s one of our biggest differences,” he replied. “Well, other than the whole I’m dead and you’re alive thing. You see the good and I see the realistic.”

  “I think realistic is just another word for cynical,” she said.

  “Yeah, well, try being a fireman for a little while,” he said. “You’ll be amazed at what people try to hide under the cover of a house fire.”

  She turned away from her computer and faced him. “Tell me,” she said.

  “I don’t think…” he began, and then he met her eyes. “Okay, but it’s not pretty. Couple of years ago, maybe going on four now, we get a call for a house fire. Nice residential neighborhood. We rush over and the place is engulfed in flames, I’ve never seen a house fire burn so hot so fast.”

  He stopped talking for a moment and rubbed his hand over his eyes. “So, I put on the air mask, grab my ax and I’m going in,” he said. “I mean a house like that has gotta have kids inside. I take out the front door and run up the stairs. It’s like ten o’clock on a school night, so I figure they’re upstairs in bed.”

  “That makes sense,” Mary said.

  “So, I’m fighting flames the whole time going up the stairs. It’s weird because it seems like the fire started up and most house fires start downstairs in the kitchen or utility room,” he continued. “I get to the first room. I remember it’s all pink and white, a little girl’s room. And there she is all tucked in for the night.”

  “You found her, before the fire got to her,” Mary exclaimed.

  “Yeah, before the fire,” he repeated sadly. “So, I grab her and she’s limp. I think smoke inhalation, but the smoke wasn’t bad enough in her room. So, I pulled my mask and gloves off to take a better reading…”

  His voice cracked and he took a moment, just staring across the room.

  “That’s when I see the bruising on her neck,” he whispered. “Bastard of a father decided he didn’t like paying child support any more. Figured that not only would the fire cover up the murders, he’d get a nice settlement from the insurance company.”

  “Oh, God,” Mary gasped, covering her mouth. “How...how many?”

  “Three kids and his ex,” he answered. “The youngest was two.”

  There were no words. Mary couldn’t think of anything to say. She just sat at her desk and stared at Mike.

  “Don’t tell me that he did this because he was mistreated as a child,” Mike whispered. “Don’t tell me he is good on the inside.”

  She shook her head. “No. No, I can’t. I am so sorry, Mike.”

  He nodded and started to fade. “One of these days I’ll take you over there,” he said. “Just to be sure the kids got home safely, okay?”

  “Mike, are you okay?”

  He turned to her, his eyes filled with sorrow. “Sometimes when I’m with you,” he said softly, “I miss being alive.”

  Once again, as he faded from her view, there was nothing she could say.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Her cell phone rang and she jump
ed. She’d been staring at the computer screen, willing an answer to appear, but nothing was happening.

  “Mary O’Reilly,” she answered absently, without looking at the caller information.

  “Well, who else would be answering your phone at 11:30 p.m.?” her brother, Sean, asked.

  “Hi Sean. What’s up?”

  “I just e-mailed you the information you wanted about Faye McMullen,” he said. “Not a lot of history. She’s led a pretty tame life. But she was loaded when she died.”

  Mary perked up. “Really? I knew she had money, but loaded?”

  Sean named an amount in the high eight digits. “Wow,” Mary exclaimed. “Now that’s money worth killing for.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he said. “There’s an angle you and Bradley should investigate.”

  “Yeah, we should,” Mary agreed shortly.

  “What?”

  “What do you mean, what?” she asked.

  “Mary, I’ve known you all your life, something’s wrong. What?” he repeated.

  “Okay, you asked for it, I’m having a really heavy period this month,” she began. “It started out as usual...”

  “Oh no you don’t,” he said. “You can’t scare me off with womanly issues. That wasn’t a womanly issue response. That was a Bradley’s a big fat jerk response.”

  How did he get to be so smart?

  “I told Bradley about Jeannine. No, actually, I showed him Jeannine,” she said.

  She heard Sean’s sharp intake of breath. “Didn’t go so well, huh?”

  “Well, if being branded untrustworthy and a liar is the basis of a good relationship, then things are just ducky.”

  “When you explained...” he started.

  “An explanation would require that someone was interested in listening to what the other person has to say,” she interrupted.

  “Want me to drive up and break his knees?”

  Mary chuckled and wiped a couple of stray tears. “No,” she sniffed, “I’ll be okay.”

  “He made you cry? That jerk made you cry?” he thundered. “I’m on my way.”