The Lunatic Detective

by Sharon Sala

  Nate caught the detective’s surprised expression and shrugged. “I lost a bet.”

  “Ah,” Rutherford said, as if that explained it all.

  Tara was tired of all the chit-chat. She waved her hand to get their attention. “Okay, here’s the deal, and I want everyone to listen and please don’t interrupt, ‘cause I’m only going to say this one more time. Our house has a ghost. When she was alive, her family owned this house from 1946 through 1986, I think. Her name was Sarah Delores Broyles. She went by the name of DeeDee. She had an older brother named Emmit.”

  “How do you know all this?” Rutherford asked.

  Tara frowned. “Obviously, you must be hard of hearing. I apologize. I’ll say this once more. No questions. I know this from records at the court house,” Tara added, then resumed her story. “As I was saying, according to the records, the brother and sister were joint heirs when their parents died. But soon after their deaths, DeeDee Broyles disappeared. No one reported her missing and suddenly Emmit was the sole owner. So I went to see Emmit and—”

  The detective’s mouth dropped, and he glared at Tara’s uncle. “What the hell, excuse my language, were you thinking to let her do that?”

  Tara frowned. “Don’t yell at Uncle Pat. He didn’t know until a few minutes ago and I’m still talking. So I went to see Emmit. His wife, Flora, came to the door. I told her I’m living in Emmit’s old family home and had a question I wanted to ask. When I mentioned Emmit’s sister, she told me he didn’t have one. Well, I already knew that wasn’t true. So then Emmit came to the door. I ask him the same question and he told me he didn’t have one and to get out. For an old man, he’s pretty scary. He’s huge, and he’s been stalking me ever since.”

  At this point, Uncle Pat went ballistic. His face turned red and he threw his hands up in disbelief. “Tara! For the love of—”

  Tara kept on talking. “Emmit has a key to our house. He actually came inside and walked all through the rooms looking for me because he knew I was here. But I was hiding in Uncle Pat’s closet and just as he opened the door, DeeDee appeared and scared him away.”

  “Tara Luna! You are so grounded!” Pat yelled.

  Tara didn’t flinch. Being grounded wasn’t bad. It just meant she stayed home, and she liked being home. She just had no intention of letting Uncle Pat know. He needed to think he still held some kind of authority over her.

  Flynn was staring at Tara as if she was a stranger.

  Rutherford was hearing her, but obviously finding it difficult to believe such a convoluted story. Still, he kept his mouth shut and let her talk.

  Nate was starting to get it. Tara could tell from the calm in his voice.

  “Then what happened?” he asked.

  “Thank you for your interest,” Tara said. “It scared me, but I think Emmit was scared more by seeing his sister’s ghost. That’s how I knew he wouldn’t come back here. It has not stopped him from stalking me off the premises, though. Detective, if you check the records for accidents here in Stillwater, you’ll find that Emmit Broyles recently had a run-in with a semi at the Hall of Fame intersection just east of Mexico Joe’s. At that time, he’d been following me. Millicent spotted him and warned me he was behind me. Then she stopped his car in the intersection which caused the semi to hit it.”

  “Who’s Millicent?” Rutherford said.

  “You don’t want to know,” Uncle Pat muttered.

  Tara kept talking. “So then a few days later, I was in the back yard and looked up and saw him driving down the alley over there.”

  Pat freaked again. “Where was I? Why don’t I know any of this stuff?”

  Tara shrugged. “You were at work, Uncle Pat. Besides, I always have Henry and Millicent.”

  Rutherford frowned, repeating his earlier question. “Who’s Millicent? Who’s Henry?”

  “I told you, you don’t want to know,” Uncle Pat said.

  “Sadly, I do,” Rutherford said.

  “They’re ghosts. They’ve been with me for years,” Tara said.

  Rutherford’s eyes bugged. “Son of a bitch, excuse my language, are they here? Now?” He turned in a nervous circle.

  Tara tilted her head, as if listening, then she waved a hand. “I don’t hear Millicent. I saw Henry earlier, but he’s not around right now.”

  “Well, that’s good to know,” Rutherford muttered, then pointed at Tara. “What happened after you saw Emmit Broyles coming down the alley?”

  Tara nodded. “Right. Well, I think he meant to be sneaky. You know, see what was going on without being spotted, but I was in the back yard. Henry warned me something was up, and then Millicent filled in the blanks. That’s when I saw Emmit. When he saw me, he freaked out and started to accelerate, but he got flustered, hit the brakes instead, and had himself another mini-wreck. Smashed his face against the steering wheel, the whole thing. He probably had to get stitches. You could check the emergency room records.”

  “Most likely . . . and a good idea,” Nate drawled.

  “Don’t encourage her,” Pat said.

  Nate shrugged. “Just helping the saga along. I want to hear the end of it, and I usually go to bed around 10:00 p.m.”

  It wasn’t even dark, and Tara was tired of their snide remarks. “None of you are funny,” Tara said. “This isn’t easy for me, either, you know. Now. Where was I?”

  “Emmit was getting stitches,” Nate said.

  “Right. So DeeDee is sad and angry and everything in between. She hasn’t been able to cross over and she wants justice. I told her I’d find out where she was buried, and then the police could open an investigation and go from there. So Nate, I mean Professor Pierce, just found the grave. I could have just dug her up myself, but I didn’t want to mess up what I know is going to become a crime scene. I watch CSI. I know the rules.”

  Rutherford looked at Nate, then pointed at the wheeled contraption beside him. “And this is where you and that thing come in?”

  Nate nodded. “I told you before, I lost a bet. So I said I would bring the GPR and do a scan of her backyard. GPR stands for Ground Penetrating Radar. It’s used for all kinds of reasons besides identifying possible pockets of oil or natural gas.”

  “Like identifying graves?” Rutherford asked.

  Nate shrugged. “It doesn’t necessarily show what’s there, just that the earth has been disturbed, and the size and depth of the disturbance. I’ll be honest, I didn’t think anything would be here. I’m as surprised as the rest of you, but what we found certainly fits the possibility of it being a grave.”

  “So show me,” Rutherford said.

  Nate turned around, squatted beside the GPR, then pointed at the laptop screen and began to explain what they were seeing.

  Tara watched the detective’s expression go from irked to curious, then from curious to disbelief.

  Suddenly, he turned and stared at Tara as if he was the one who’d just seen a ghost. “You do know I will verify everything you’ve told me before a blade of grass gets turned.”

  Tara nodded. “And you do know that when Emmit Broyles gets wind of what’s going on, he’s going to disappear.”

  Rutherford sighed. “I’ll put a man on him just in case.”

  Tara wasn’t satisfied. “The courthouse is still open. Have someone check the ownership records for this property. Have someone else check the census records for back then. As I said, Sarah Delores Broyles, who went by the name of DeeDee, is listed as a sister—the sister Emmit swears he never had.”

  Rutherford shoved a hand through his hair in frustration. “Damn it, girl, excuse my language, am I going to have to put you on the payroll to get you off my back?”

  “No. Just find DeeDee, then find her killer,” Tara said softly. She gave them all a sweeping glance. “I think I’m done here. I’m tired of arguing.
I’m sad for DeeDee and I feel sorry for myself that I’m not some shallow-minded teenager who’s biggest problem is not having enough money to buy herself a real Gucci purse instead of a knock-off.”

  “Well?” Nate asked. “She’s right. It won’t take long to check records. If that man denies ever having a sister and he did, that’s damning. And if he never reported her missing, and she was, that’s even worse. I’d be seriously suspicious . . . if I were you.”

  Rutherford glared. “What are you, her agent?”

  Tara rolled her eyes again, but Nate answered before she could.

  “No,” Nate said, “but I can say with all honesty, this has been one of the most amazing days of my life, and I’m sticking around to see how it ends.”

  Pat nodded. “It goes without saying that I’m on Tara’s side. She’s special in so many ways, and you have to remember, I grew up with women like her. They were always right.”

  “Always?” Rutherford asked.

  “Always.”

  Tara was grateful for Uncle Pat’s conviction.

  Rutherford nodded and pointed at Nate. “Get me a print-out of that.” Then he pointed at Pat. “Find something and mark this area. I’ve got some phone calls to make, and I have to find a way to explain all this to the Captain before I can get Forensics out here.”

  “How long before you begin digging?” Tara asked.

  Rutherford stared down at the ground, as if trying to see what lay beneath. “Between you and me, if I had a shovel, I’d start right now. But Tara’s right. This has to be dealt with in a scientific manner. A lot of years have come and gone since the body—if it’s here—was buried. We’re looking at serious decomposition. Without having been buried in a casket, there’s no way of telling of what we may or may not find.”

  “The bones will be there,” Nate said.

  Pat smiled. “Ah, a convert.”

  “She made a believer out of me yesterday,” Nate said.

  Tara smiled and snuck a look at Flynn, who was staring at her with hot eyes.

  Rutherford shook his head and headed for his car. Nate followed with the GPR. He needed to take it back to the University, then hook his laptop to a printer and get Rutherford what he needed.

  Pat got a can of red spray paint and marked off the spot.

  Tara looked around for DeeDee. “Everything’s going to come out, now,” she said to the air.

  Flynn raised an eyebrow. “Is she here?”

  “I don’t see her. But maybe. This is what she’s been waiting for.”

  Tara was sitting at the kitchen table with her head in her hands. Flynn stood on the other side of the room, uncharacteristically quiet. Millicent floated in a pink cloud on the other side of the table.

  They meant well.

  Tara heard her, but she was mentally exhausted. She didn’t respond to Millicent, but when Flynn, who was hovering near the back door, shuffled his feet nervously, she looked up.

  “Flynn, you’re making me nervous. Sit down, okay?”

  He crossed the floor and slid into a seat beside her, then slid his hand up the back of her neck and massaged it gently.

  “It’s been a rough day, hasn’t it, Moon girl?”

  She nodded. Then the room disappeared in a blur of tears.

  Flynn groaned. “Don’t cry,” he begged.

  “I’m not crying,” Tara said. “My eyes just burn, that’s all.”

  “Just so you know . . . I think you’re amazing. I don’t understand how you do it, but your heart is so in the right place.”

  “Thanks,” Tara said, and then leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed. “It’s been a long day. I didn’t want to go to bed tonight without knowing the search for justice for DeeDee had begun.”

  “Well, you’ve already accomplished that,” Flynn said.

  Tara nodded, then to her surprise, started to cry. Slowly at first, and then more and more until she was out and out sobbing. She cried for herself and how hard it was just to be in her shoes, and for all the lost souls she kept seeing who didn’t have the closure they needed to cross over. She worried about being able to stay strong enough to help them and still live her own life. She wondered if the stress of it all would finally wear her down until there was nothing more substantial left of her than there was of the ghosts she saw.

  When Pat came in and found Tara crying, he pulled her out of the chair and into his arms.

  “Don’t cry, honey,” he said softly. “Don’t cry. We’re gonna help you find your little DeeDee. I promise.”

  Tara was too tired to be embarrassed that she was bawling like a baby in front of Flynn.

  “Thanks, Uncle Pat,” she said, and then hugged him fiercely.

  “Yeah, Tara. We’re all gonna help you,” Flynn said.

  “Just promise me something,” Pat added. “If Emmit Broyles comes near you again, tell me. Tell Flynn. Tell Rutherford. Tell everyone . . . do you hear me?”

  “I promise,” Tara said, and then wiped her eyes and blew her nose on the handkerchief Uncle Pat gave her.

  At that point, there was a knock on the back door.

  “I’ll get it,” Flynn said, opened the door to find Detective Rutherford at the front door.

  “I need to talk to the kid,” he said.

  “We all made her cry. Do not amp up the disbelief again,” Flynn said shortly.

  Rutherford looked startled, then scrubbed a hand across his face. “I’m sorry. This has been an off day for me in more ways than one. However, I still need to talk to her.”

  Rutherford followed Flynn into the kitchen just as Tara was washing her face at the sink.

  “Hey, kid. We got lucky.”

  “How so?” Tara asked.

  “My Captain, Adam Farrell, had grandparents who used to live in that yellow house across the street. He was a little kid, but he distinctly remembers a man and woman living here. He thought they were married because their last names were the same, but he remembers his grandmother always talked about how nice DeeDee was, and how she always brought her the extra cookies when she baked. In fact, he remembers trick or treating at the house one Halloween when DeeDee passed out popcorn balls in the shape of little pumpkins.”

  “No way!” Tara cried.

  “Way,” Rutherford said, grinning. “So we have a Forensic team on the way as we speak.” He glanced at Pat. “Hope you have good lighting out back. If not, we’ll be stringing some search lights.”

  “You’re going to start this evening?” Pat asked.

  “Yeah. Captain was pretty adamant. He’s already sent a car to pick up Emmit Broyles and bring him in for questioning.”

  “He believed me?”

  “It was Emmit’s wife who cinched it. When the officer we sent out asked her the whereabouts of her husband’s sister, she said we were mistaken because he didn’t have one. That sort of tipped the scales in your favor.”

  “Whatever it takes.” Tara saw movement from the corner of her eye. It was DeeDee, and for the first time Tara had felt happiness in her. She smiled. DeeDee smiled back, then faded away.

  “Soon,” Tara promised.

  “Yeah, you’re right,” Rutherford said, thinking Tara had been talking to him. “If that body is there, it won’t take long to find out if it’s DeeDee. There might be dental records or a DNA match to Emmit, or maybe—”

  Tara’s eyes narrowed as DeeDee slipped an image into her head.”You’ll find a necklace with the body. A locket, with the initials SDB inside.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “I do not kid about ghosts.”

  “Man, if you’re right, your skills could come in real handy in homicide.”

  Tara held up her hands and took a step backward. “I also do not plan to go out looking for anymore murders any
time soon, thank you very much.”

  “It was just a thought,” Rutherford said. “However, I’m afraid we’re going to be making a lot of racket for most of the night.”

  Pat slid a comment into the conversation. “I just realized you might want to talk to our landlord. His name is Gene Whiteside. He owns Whiteside Realty.”

  “I know Gene,” Rutherford said. “I’ll give him a call.” Then he added. “I know it’s an imposition, but will it be all right if I tell the guys they can use your facilities when necessary?”

  “You talking about the bathroom?” Pat asked.

  “Yeah, and maybe water from some outside faucets. That kind of thing.”

  “Whatever you need,” Pat said, and then gave Tara a conspiratorial wink. “If you allow us access to watch if we want.”

  Rutherford nodded. “I think that can be arranged.”

  Tara sighed. Uncle Pat knew just what to ask. It wasn’t that she wanted to see what was left of DeeDee’s body, but she felt like she had to. Someone needed to grieve for her, even if it was a few decades late.

  Tell them to bring Emmit here. He’ll spill his soup.

  Tara resisted the urge to grin. Millicent never got slang right. You mean he’ll spill his guts. But you’re right.

  “Uh, Detective Rutherford, if you bring Emmit Broyles to this house, I think he’ll confess, which would save you a lot of time and money running DNA tests and looking for dental records, right?”

  Once again, Rutherford was stunned. “Why would coming here—”

  “I think DeeDee will probably scare him into confessing.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Nope. Just dig her up and show him the remains. That oughta do it.”

  Rutherford grinned and shook his head as another knock sounded at the front door. “That’s probably the Forensic crew,” Rutherford said. “I’ll get them started and we’ll go from there.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Pat said, and followed the detective out.

  Flynn looked at Tara, then put his arms around her and pulled her close.