That’s when I get a clear view.
That’s when my world turns upside down.
That’s when I start to hurl.
Phone still clutched in my hand, I jump up and run outside. I barely make it onto the pavement before bile comes up. When my stomach is emptier, I’m too embarrassed to let anyone know I upchucked. And I’m too pissed to care.
I jump into my car and start it. It doesn’t matter that my hands are shaking, and I may end up in a wreck. I have to confront the man in the video. I have to know why Julian helped cover up a murder.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I don’t remember the drive to Carter, Hamilton & Levine, only pulling up to the front of the three-story building. I barely take note of the foyer, brushing past a man in a suit and taking the elevator to the third floor. I push through the double glass doors and stand in the middle of the carpeted floor, staring at all the offices but not actually focusing on them.
That’s when I realize it’s quiet, not the bustling atmosphere of a lawyer’s office, or at least not what I expect of one. The receptionist’s desk is empty. Everything is made of glass—the office doors, even the walls, so I can see inside each one. Several are dark, and a couple have lights on. It’s Saturday. Of course it’s not super busy.
I dial Julian’s cell phone, holding it away from my ear, so I can hear if it rings from one of the offices. But it goes straight to voicemail, which means the phone is off and he’s on a case. It’s the only time he turns it off. Am I even sure of that, though?
How well do I know Julian? Yeah, I lived with him for almost a year, but every time he walked out of that apartment, I didn’t know where he really went or what he actually did. Does he even work for Carter, Hamilton & Levine? Yes, because how else would he have called Mr. Hamilton to help Izzie and me? But other than that he had a grandmother, I know nothing else I’ve seen with my own eyes. He had a couple of friends but no family. At least, not any he invited over.
He told me his parents died when he was a boy and he moved in with his grandmother. But I have no corroboration. No one to tell me whether or not he’s a lying ass. Well, obviously he’s a liar. He sat on my couch while I told him Emma is sticking around. He didn’t admit the truth. He did, however, seem eager to know if Emma identified her killer. Maybe he’s afraid of getting caught?
Ugh! I squeeze my head. This is such crap. Julian didn’t kill Emma. It’s obvious from that video he was just helping Wesley out. But why?
One of the offices ahead is lit up, and the door is ajar. I step closer. It’s Mr. Hamilton’s. He’s here. Maybe he can give me some answers. It’s empty, so I step in and wait. There are mounds of paperwork on one side of his desk, and a law journal is open by his chair. Several folders litter the floor, and a half-eaten sandwich and a small bag of chips sit by his phone.
I turn to take a seat in one of the chairs facing his desk and notice the framed photos on the wall. Various gentlemen in suits posing for cameras. I’m not sure why they catch my attention until I get to the last one. It’s Mr. Hamilton standing outside a construction site. His smile is big—the infectious kind that makes you want to smile back. I’m not smiling though, because beside him is Wesley’s father. He looks like he did in the photo in Wesley’s house, an older version of his son.
“Gianna, did we have an appointment?”
My pulse jumps. I turn to see Mr. Hamilton standing in his doorway. I glance back at the photo, my head spinning. “No.”
He walks in and steps behind his desk. “Is something wrong with Isabella? Is Detective Burton harassing you?”
His tone is gentle and full of concern, and that makes me smile. At least on the inside. “No, I’m sorry to bother you. I’m looking for Julian, and I saw your door open.”
He sits in his high-back, leather chair. “Julian’s on an investigation. I’m not sure when he’ll be back. Would you like me to leave him a message? Although, he’ll probably check in with you before me.”
“What makes you say that?”
He smirks. “It’s obvious he’s smitten with you.”
My chest tightens. “Oh, yes. Thank you.” But I don’t leave. I stand there, staring at the photo. It’s not unheard of that Mr. Hamilton knows Mr. Vaughn. He could be his attorney. But it sure feels like a huge coincidence. Or a slap in the face. Wesley’s family lives in Connecticut, so why would he have an attorney on Long Island?
“Is there something else?” Mr. Hamilton asks.
I point to the photo. “That’s Mr. Vaughn, right?”
Mr. Hamilton stands and walks beside me. “Yes. That was taken several years ago, right before they broke ground to put in a strip mall.”
“Is that on the island?” I ask.
“Yes, in Hempstead. Why? Are you interested in strip malls?”
“I just recognized Mr. Vaughn. I know his son, Wesley.”
Mr. Hamilton turns and stares at me. The skin between his brows puckers. “You do? What a small world.”
Tell me about it. “It’s weird to me because Mr. Vaughn lives in Connecticut, so why does he have a Long Island attorney?”
Mr. Hamilton turns his body straight to me. “Mr. Vaughn is a friend.”
“Oh.” I didn’t think of that. Now I feel foolish. “If you see Julian before I do, can you please tell him I’m looking for him?”
“Of course. Have a good day.”
“You too.” I walk to the elevators, and when I get inside of one, I look back. Mr. Hamilton is standing in the middle of the reception area watching me leave.
* * *
I pace my living room from breakfast bar to windows, going over what I know and what I saw. But it doesn’t tell me anything. I’m no clearer now than this morning when I got that damn video. What am I supposed to do? Should I call the cops? Tell Izzie? I’ve left Julian four messages since leaving Hamilton’s office.
I pivot and glance up, taken aback by the strange expressions on Emma’s and Billy’s faces. They’re both seated on the sofa, close enough that they’re whispering to one another. They’re unnaturally quiet and still.
“What?” I snap and resume pacing.
“We’re a bit concerned about you.” Emma says.
“You’re acting a little crazy. Crazier than you normally do,” Billy says.
His comment barely registers. When the heck is Julian going to call me back?
“She won’t even take my bait,” Billy says to Emma. “Maybe she really has gone crazy.”
Emma shushes him and hovers in front of me.
I have to stop short or step through her, and while that won’t hurt either of us, it freaks me out.
“You don’t seem well. Can we help?” Emma asks.
I shake my head and walk around her. There’s nothing they can do. But then I remember this is about her, and I stop short again. “Are you sure you’ve never seen Julian before, while you were alive?”
She nods emphatically. “I’m positive. There’s no way I’d forget someone so yummy.”
“Are you sure?” I ask again, just in case.
“She’s sure,” says Billy.
I scoff. “How would you know? You two are BFFs now?”
They look to one another and share an expression I don’t understand. “What’s going on?”
Emma says, “We’ve discovered that we can read each other’s minds.”
I laugh. That’s absurd. And yet here I am talking to ghosts. “What?”
When they don’t smile or laugh, letting me know it’s a joke, I let my jaw hang. “Seriously? You’re both telepathic?”
Billy chuckles. “We’re not psychic.”
“Well, not before we died,” Emma says.
Billy nods. “But as ghosts, we know what the other is thinking.”
I slump onto the couch. As the ghost whisperer, shouldn’t I have learned this way before now? “Why haven’t previous ghosts told me?”
Emma shrugs. “They probably don’t know. We didn’t until a bit ago. With al
l your pacing, I could suddenly hear what Billy was thinking.”
I stare at him. “That I’ve gone crazy?”
His timid nod calms down my mind long enough to take a deep, cleansing breath. “Too bad you can’t read the thoughts of the living.”
Emma giggles. “That would be awesome. Then I could know how a guy really feels about me right away.”
I lower my head to my hand. This is so not about flirting. But then it hits me, and I look up. “Wait a minute. If you can read the minds of other ghosts, you can help me find out some answers. Like why the freezer is so important. And who that scary Freezer Dude is.”
It may not be the most pressing issue right now, but it can be a problem solved.
Billy jumps up. “Let’s go.”
* * *
Pop decided to close the deli today, to take the entire weekend away from the chaos that the place has become since Izzie’s arrest. Living above it though, Pop has given me a spare key in case of an emergency. I don’t think sneaking in and talking to dead freezer people constitutes an emergency, but Pop doesn’t have to know that.
I shut the back door and join Billy and Emma in front of the freezer. They both look from me to the door.
Billy bugs his eyes out. “Dude, you have to open it. We can’t.”
“Oh right.” I grab the handle and yank it.
A blast of cold hits my sleeveless arms, and I jerk back, immediately thinking of Freezer Dude and those wretched dreams. It isn’t until this moment that I realize how scared I am of him.
Billy and Emma pretend they don’t see my reaction. I grab a stool under a work table and stick it in front of the door, just in case it shuts. They walk past me into the freezer. My steps aren’t nearly as quick as theirs.
I’m halfway in and ask, “So why do you think the dead pass through here? Do you feel some kind of pull?”
They shake their heads, one after the other, like we’re playing a game of Simon Says. Then Emma says, “It’s not the freezer. It’s what’s under it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think if the freezer was gone, the pull would still be here. Like it’s a part of the land.”
I never looked into the land. “Like the movie Poltergeist?”
Billy rubs his hands together. “You think the deli was built on graves?”
“I doubt it’s that Hollywood, but maybe something on a smaller scale? Like maybe it’s the building.” I make a mental note to find out what was here before the deli.
Billy walks to the far end and places his hand on the back wall. It goes through, and I expect to see him sucked into oblivion, but he’s still standing there. He pulls his hand back out. “I don’t see a weird guy.”
Great. So now I look crazy for sure.
I walk over and stand beside Billy. I squeeze one eye shut and tentatively place my hand on the wall. The cold makes me flinch, but nothing else happens. I’m not sucked into a hell dimension. Freezer Dude doesn’t poke his head through. No maniacal laughter.
Is it possible I imagined the last time? Some residual terror from my dreams and the time I died? I bet a shrink would say it has to do with my moving back home or something to do with mommy issues. According to them, everyone has some.
I look at the tip of my index finger. It’s fine. No more tingling since that day. Had I imagined it?
* * *
When I get back upstairs, Izzie calls. She needs to get out of the house. I can’t sit around and wait for Julian to call me, so I pick her up and drive to Lindy’s. I need to speak with Andy anyway.
I open the door, and music blasts at us. The tables and bar are full. There are even people on the dance floor.
“Whoa, what happened?” Izzie shouts.
My thoughts exactly.
We have to wait for two college-aged, giggly girls to get up and go to the bathroom, which is almost immediately, and we snatch up the same stools we sat on last week. I pray we don’t have another fatal night.
Reading my thoughts, Izzie shouts, “No matter who walks through that door or what we see leaving, we don’t get involved.”
I smile. “Deal.”
Andy pours two beers on tap for a couple on the other side of the bar and walks over. “Hey, ladies. Good to see you again. What can I get for you?”
He remembers us. That’s a good sign. Maybe he’ll remember Plaid Guy and Emma, too.
“A club soda with lime for me and a glass of Merlot for her.” I’m definitely playing designated driver tonight.
“No,” Izzie shouts. “I’ll have the same as her.”
She must need a break from all the alcohol. I say to Andy, “Also, I’d like to ask you some questions about last Saturday.”
A woman in a skintight, royal blue dress leans over the bar, displaying her melons. She waves a twenty-dollar bill. “Excuse me.”
“I’ll get you the drinks, but I can’t chat this minute. I’ll swing by when I get a second, okay?”
And I’ll make sure of that. I smile. “Sure thing.”
When he places our drinks on the bar, he winks at Izzie. Does he recognize her from the news?
“Hey, why are you so busy? Last week, it was dead in here,” she says, handing him a ten.
After making change and laying it on the bar, he holds up a finger to tell the woman he’ll be right there. “Since all that murder business at Mitch’s Tavern, some people say they’re scared to go there.” He shrugs. “Their loss is our gain.”
He sprints over to the woman, and Izzie and I clank our glasses.
“They should give you free drinks,” I say, making her laugh. Hearing it helps me relax.
From the moment I hung up after she called, to changing into a black skirt and an off-the-shoulder pink top, to picking her up and driving here, I went back and forth between telling her about Julian or not. She’s my sister, and everything I’ve done this past week is because I love her. But, whether I like it or not, I love him, too, and I’d like to hear what he has to say before throwing him under the bus.
I guess I just answered my own dilemma.
“Ma told me about Kevin and Hilary,” Izzie says. “How do you feel about that?”
Ugh, of all conversations, I’d rather talk about insect repellant or how I spent my childhood believing Pluto is a planet and now it’s not anymore.
“I feel Hilary’s a fool to be attracted to pond scum.” Ah, that made me feel better.
Izzie smirks. “How do you feel about Hilary?”
“Didn’t I just answer that?”
“No, I asked about the two of them. I want to know your feelings about just her. She was your best friend for many years, and she screwed you over. I know you’re past it, but this must have brought up all kinds of emotions.”
I glance at her sideways. “What? Are you a shrink now?”
She sighs. “I think I’ve been living with Ma too long. She never stops with the questions, and sometimes, when she’s nagging, she gets kinda shrill. That woman can peel paint off a wall with her voice alone.”
I snort then chuckle. “Especially when she and Pop are arguing over the most mundane thing. But part of the reason we love her is because she always has our backs.”
Izzie giggles. “Yes, and you’re avoiding the question.”
I roll my eyes. “I have mixed feelings about Hilary. Part of me pities her. Kevin just happens to propose marriage, and they rush to do it that same day, the very day, I move back home? I don’t want to think everything’s about me, but that screams it’s about me.”
Izzie smiles and nods. There’s a teensy-weensy chance I’m reading Kevin’s actions wrong, but if my sister agrees, I’m more sure that I’m not.
“And another part of me hopes she’s miserable. She told him my secret.”
Izzie coughs on her club soda. “What?”
“Oh, I didn’t tell you? Yeah, that day he came to the deli, he referenced my seeing…them. The only one who could’ve told him was Hilary. Or Micky, but he’s
not in town anymore, and I never confirmed it with him, so he probably thinks she lied.”
Izzie shakes her head. “I can’t believe her.”
I check out Andy. He’s on the other end of the bar pouring shots. Someone’s popular tonight.
Izzie sets her empty glass closer to Andy’s side of the bar, wanting a refill.
“Why aren’t you drinking tonight?” I ask. Not to say my sister’s a lush, but if she’s going to drink, I’d think it would be while her marriage is falling apart.
She purses her lips and glances at me. I know that look. She has a secret. I’m about to press her on it when she says, “I’m pregnant.”
I’m not quite sure I hear her right, or maybe that’s just the shock making my ears ring. “What?”
She nods. “I found out the morning before I was arrested. I’ve been late, but I assumed it was the stress.”
I can’t tell if she’s happy or not. “Oh my God. Wha—what are you going to do?”
She sighs and plays with her napkin. “I’m having it. I don’t know what this means for Paulie and me, though. I still want to wring his neck. But we’ve been trying for a year now, and it’s just like fate to give us what we want when I’m not sure if I want to be with him anymore.”
Not sure means she’s considering it. At least she’s open to all possibilities and not running away like I do…did. Of course, I should’ve run farther so Julian couldn’t reach me.
“Does Paulie know?” I ask, trying to keep my focus on my sister. She needs me. Her problems are more important than mine.
“No. No one does, so don’t say anything.”
I press my lips together, zip and lock them with my fingers, and throw away the key. “Do you want him back? Can you forgive him?”
“I don’t know. He says it was just that one time, that all my nagging and accusing was for nothing because he wasn’t cheating. Until the night I caught him, and they didn’t have intercourse, as if that makes it better.”
I’m sure on some level it does, though. “You guys have spoken?” I ask.
Jennifer Fischetto - Dead by the Numbers 01 - One Garish Ghost & Blueberry Peach Jam Page 17