The Haunted Bones

by PM Weldon

  She had used that same ID and route ten times before to break into bank accounts and no one had caught her yet. Still…might be safe to ditch it and buy another one. Great. Another thing to owe Auggie for.

  McNally was in the building for about an hour before he stepped back out, followed by a small, tough-looking woman with brown hair. Mary hadn't seen her before and wondered if the woman was a cop or a friend. She grabbed her phone from the seat and snapped a few pictures before the two of them piled into his car and drove off with a black and white police car right behind them.

  She pulled out and stayed a few cars back. Her fear and temper rose again when she turned down the street where The Alley Haunt was. She drove by as McNally parked in front of it with the black-and-white behind him.

  Shit! Why was he back there? Why was there police?

  Mary had another white-knuckle grip on the wheel as she turned the corner ahead and doubled back. She parked a block down so the cop wouldn't see her twice, and sat watching the front of the old bar. The cop didn't leave his car but McNally and the woman—definitely a cop—went inside.

  Phone in hand, Mary thumbed up her contacts and hit dial.

  "A. G. Smith."

  "Auggie, he's back in that building and he's got cops with him."

  There was a pause. "Who are you talking about? The photographer?"

  "Yeah."

  "What building?"

  It dawned on her she hadn't really confided all the details to Auggie as to why she wanted this guy whacked and the photos deleted. "Never mind. Let's just say it's getting more serious. You get hold of Angel?"

  "Yeah. Well his representative answered me. Same old story, Mary. Angel is on hiatus until the present job is completed. Sorry." He disconnected.

  No! She threw her phone into the floorboard of the passenger side. Dammit all! This was getting worse. What if McNally took that picture to the cops—and this cop was in there with him looking for how her mother showed up like that? What if they decided to move the shelf or, worse, the mirror?

  What if….

  No, no, no, no! After everything she'd worked toward, she was not going to let some former cop destroy it all for her. She was going to get rid of him, and the female cop if need be. She didn't need some mysterious hit person with a dumb-ass name. She'd offed six husbands in her life, all of them ruled accidental deaths or natural causes. All she had to do was find out what he was most allergic to, watch his actions, and find out where he lived.

  With a smile on her face, she reached over and picked up her phone. After browsing her contacts, she found one and hit dial.

  "Health Care Benefits, records office."

  "Hello? Yes, is Mr. Tasmir Mahov still working for you?"

  "Yes, he is."

  "Wonderful. Maybe I speak to him? Tell him…MS needs some advice."

  Nine

  After several hours of searching the former bar with gloves and bags, I stepped outside to stretch. My old habit, before I was shot, was to smoke a cigarette. But that was a habit I was happy to put aside. In the black–and-white parked outside the business, the officer inside was busy reading the paper. He saw me, nodded, and carried on.

  The problem we faced was time. That and about a million hands inside the building after it was cleared. The blood stains were little more than faded brown spots. If there was anything at all still here, it was corrupted beyond use. Truth was…I didn't really know what I was looking for.

  Jewels stepped outside to join me, gloves on. "Hey…you still got that odd picture with you?"

  "Yeah, it's on my tablet."

  "Come back in. I need to see it."

  I followed her in and grabbed the tablet from my bag on the bar. After the image was pulled up, she took the device and moved to the other side of the room and held the tablet up as if to do a side-by-side. "Come look at this."

  I joined her and looked. "Are you seeing something I'm not?"

  "Well, after studying the folder, I know this woman doesn't have anything to do with the two women killed. She doesn't look like either of them. So, who is she and why is she showing up there?" She pointed to the shelf.

  Jewels was right. This was the odd picture out. We had no idea who this woman was or why she was there. And if we were going to believe the pictures I took were valid, we had to go on the assumption there was a reason. I moved behind the bar. "Am I where she is?"

  "A little to your right…there. Now you're exactly where she is."

  In front of me was a series of tall shelves. I was pretty sure this is where the bartender kept the bottles of liquor for the customers to choose from. There were twelve shelves in all, starting from the ceiling down. Near my waist was a wrap around shelf on top of several drawers—or, rather, their framework. The drawers were long gone.

  I knelt down and looked through the shelving, and to my surprise, saw wallpaper. "There's no backing to the lower half. Just wall." I reached through the opening and pressed my hand against the wall and smacked my face against the shelf frame as the drywall caved in.

  "You okay?" Jewels came around the bar and knelt down. "Ooh… your hand went through."

  "Uh huh." I pulled it out and examined it for bugs. I hated bugs. I hated all bugs. Not a real outdoorsy kinda guy. "I touched cold brick behind it. Or cinder block—if this is a firewall."

  "We should punch that out to see." She started to reach through the shelf frame but her arm wasn't long enough.

  I pulled her back. "This isn't a legitimate crime scene and it's owned by the bank. We can't go destroying property without permission. And this place has an interested buyer. We're just here to observe."

  She gave me a disgusted look. "Jim never said you were a stickler for the rules."

  "Well, that's because I used to not be." I helped her up, and we stood and faced the shelves. "He was always the one to rein me in." Except that night when he ran into that warehouse. "But why?"

  "Why what?"

  Oh crap. I said that with my outside voice. "I was thinking of Jim that night at the warehouse. I remember getting there after him and he was already…dead. But what I don't know is why. He was such a damn asshole about following the rules, and he knew in a hostage situation we were supposed to wait for backup. If he knew Llse had been taken, then he would have called and waited. But he didn't."

  She was watching me intently, her eyes wide. "You remember anything else?"

  "Not yet." I moved over to look at the antique mirror. "But I think I will. Eventually. Jimmy always looked at the why when we worked a case. Motive was his big thing because without motive, it never makes sense. And it has to make sense."

  "I don't think murder ever makes sense."

  "It does." I reached out to touch the mirror. "Let's take this case—this Birch guy killing his wife, the girl next door, and himself. We've already seen by looking at the photos that the way it was written up can't be the way it happened, and it didn't make sense. Why kill them? Two defenseless women? The ferocity used to kill the two of them is usually only present in a crime of passion. This guy was angry. I mean, he was pissed off." I looked at her. "Why? I can't find any motive in the files. No infidelity, no mention of tax evasion, no embezzlement. Why kill these two women?"

  Jewels lifted her shoulders in a shrug. "Like I said, it doesn't always make sense."

  "It makes sense if you put a fourth person in. Someone else who was mad and took it out on them. If it was Cahan, the only reason I can come up with is he discovered something. Something his daughter did."

  She put her hand on my arm. "His daughter was seeing Mr. Birch!"

  "Maybe." I redirected my attention back to the mirror. It was loose and moved a small bit back and forth. Six tiny screws held it in place against dry wall. I reached up and twisted one of the arms to the side, then methodically, with my other hand bracing the mirror, moved all of them. The mirror came forward in my hands so I lifted it out and set it carefully on the bar.

  "Holy hell."

  I t
urned to see a shit-load of black mold on the wall behind it. But what had Jewels's eye and mine was a plastic bag smashed against the corroded drywall. "Let me get pictures of this with you standing there. We need to do this by the book, okay?"

  I grabbed my tablet.

  Jewels frowned at me. "You're gonna take shots with that?"

  "Yeah. I don't want to go and look for my camera, and I didn't really prepare to do this." I held the device up so I could actually record her lifting the bag out of the drywall. "Is that…is that a hole?"

  She nodded, stuck her gloved hand into it, and patted something. "Sure is. And guess what…this is brick back here, not cinder block. This wall's out of code."

  Brick? I knew what the two materials felt like, and I had touched cinder block under the bar.

  Jewels pulled her penlight out and shined it inside. "There's a hole on the other side as well."

  "You mean to the adjoining store?"

  "Looks like it."

  I continued to record as she placed the bag on the bar and pulled the contents out. It was a diary of some sort, and a collection of letters and notes stuffed in the back. I recognized the type of diary because I'd bought Pink of one of them a few years back before she decided being pretty was a lie made up by the cosmetic industry to sell more products.

  Jewels opened the diary and started reading.

  "'January 12th. I've decided I'm not going to tell him. There's just no way he'd understand and I don't want to hurt him. And yet every day I pray to God to forgive me for my sins. I can't believe He would allow us to love so deeply and yet condemn such a love to die in the fires of perdition. I can't stand the thought of giving her up, and yet everyday I refuse to look into the mirror because I am ashamed at what I've done.'"

  "Who is that?"

  "It's just signed with initials. B.C." She pulled the top letter out from the back and carefully opened it. "'My dearest B., it's getting harder to see you every day and not be able to hold you, or assure you life will get better. Your father is a monster and he should be stopped. You must go to the police and tell them what he does to you. He killed your mother, and now he's going to kill you. Please, let someone know. I love you, B.C.'" She stuck the letter back into the diary and the diary back into the bag. "I need to get this into an evidence bag."

  I followed her with the camera so as to keep flow. She pulled a red-stripped plastic bag from her purse and sealed the top. She pulled a pen out of her pocket, signed the bag, dated it, and wrote down the location. With one hand I grabbed her purse and my bag and followed her to the parked black-and-white.

  The officer immediately got out of his car and opened his trunk. Jewels handed the bag to the officer and he signed the bag and put it in his trunk. "Get that to Captain Vale as soon as you can. Hand it directly to him."

  We stood just outside The Alley Haunt as the car pulled away. That's when I noticed a blue sedan easing its way down the street. Jewels brushed past me to head back into the building as the car came closer. I could see their face as they suddenly accelerated—only it wasn't a face. It was a mask like the ones I'd seen in New Orleans at Mardi Gras. Then he reached his arm out of the driver's side window…

  And fired a gun.

  Ten

  She sat in her rental and watched the blue sedan cruise by and shoot at McNally and his lady cop friend. Yes, it was something she had dreamed of doing, but she wasn't stupid. She had planned on getting rid of them and putting an end to his snooping in the old bar, but she made calls to learn how to do it quietly.

  So…who the hell was this?

  The second the sedan sped off and the two people stopped moving, she pulled out and headed in the opposite direction. Was this a hit? Did someone want McNally dead as much as she did? Or was it the little cop? She glanced in her rearview mirror as two police cars raced past her, lights flashing. That was fast, but they had probably been close by to begin with. She didn't speed. She didn't panic—or at least she didn't on the outside.

  Instead she pulled her car over and got out to join the other gawkers as they rushed back toward The Alley Haunt to see what the commotion was all about. An ambulance arrived a few minutes after she did, but she couldn't see what happened. Did the shooter get him? Did they hit the girl?

  Too many people and more cops arriving. And there came the news crew. Great. This was just…great. More attention on The Alley Haunt. This was everything she didn't want to happen. Another ambulance could be heard in the distance, coming closer. Two? Were they were both hit?

  As the EMTs hustled people out of the way, she got a glimpse of the front step. They had the girl on the stretcher and McNally was on the other side, surrounded by a few cops. As the second ambulance pulled in, the crowd parted to allow the new EMTs to drag another stretcher to the curb.

  People were talking and yelling around her.

  "I seen him, officers! It was a white guy!"

  "No, it was one of them gang things. Drive by shootin'."

  "Naw, man, I seen the dude. He had on a hoodie and a mask. I was standing down the street. Saw 'em when they stepped out."

  She focused on the last voice and saw an older gentleman with weathered skin and thinning gray hair talking to a plainclothes detective. The detective was taking notes.

  "You saw the victims when they stepped out of the building?"

  "Yeah, officer. They handed something off to another cop and when he drove off…" The older man turned and pointed back down the street. "This blue car eased up and looked at them. Aimed a gun at them. The tall guy yelled something and dove at the little lady."

  So McNally had seen the shooter and tried to duck. Was he successful? No one was talking about their condition. The other ambulance cranked up and honked, signaling people out of the way. So the girl was being taken away. She noticed the name across the side of the ambulance and then made sure they were from the same place.

  Piedmont Hospital.

  "…some weird mask with lots of gold on it. Yeah, it was a gold mask."

  Her ears perked up and she snapped her attention back to the old guy and the cop. Gold mask?

  Only one shooter she knew wore a gold mask.

  Black Angel.

  The news crews had their cameras out. Time for her to go. If there was one thing she didn't want, it was to have her face plastered all over the media.

  Once in her car, she locked the doors and dialed Auggie. He answered on the third ring but she cut him off. "I thought you said Black Angel couldn't take my job."

  "Well, yeah, that's what his representative told me. Why?"

  "Because he just tried to take out McNally in a public place."

  Auggie didn't answer right away. He put her on hold, which just infuriated her even more. She was about to throw the phone again when he came back on. "That wasn't Black Angel. I just got a call from the rep. Said he's over there now, watching."

  "Angel's rep is here?" She looked around the car—front, sides, and behind her. "Where?"

  "I don't know. And you wouldn't recognize him, either. No one sees either of them."

  She sank down in the seat. "Damn masked marauders. You'd think they were anime villains or something. So if it wasn't Angel, then who the hell was shooting at McNally?" Her afterthought included the small cop.

  "I don't know. Maybe he's got more enemies than just you." Auggie chuckled. "What's your beef with this guy, anyway?"

  "He's nosy."

  "That's it?"

  "Yeah. So remember that, Auggie. I don't like people being nosy."

  "Right." He disconnected.

  She lowered the phone and looked around as the second ambulance, carrying McNally, drove by. Once the people disappeared and the traffic straightened out, she drove by The Alley Haunt. Police tape covered the entrance now and two uniformed officers stood outside.

  How could things get any worse?

  Eleven

  I stood outside the hospital's triage. No, strike that—I paced outside. I was waiting on Jewels,
my own shoulder stitched and bandaged. I had seen the gunman in time to shout out a warning to Jewels, then reached out to her to grab her with the intent of taking us both straight down and out of this guy's line of sight.

  It was one hell of a time to have a blackout.

  "McNally!"

  Vale came striding down the hallway. He was dressed in a dark suit and a determined expression.

  "Sir, did you get the bag?"

  "Yes, it's on it's way to the GBI." He looked at my shoulder in its sling, the bandage hid under my shirt, though the blood and hole were still there. "Is it bad?"

  "Through and through. Good thing I'm thin. They dug the slug out of the door frame."

  His gray eyes met mine. "Tell me what happened."

  I went over what we did, how we were looking at the bar and found the diary and letters behind the bar mirror. "The officer had just taken the evidence when I saw the sedan. Buick, maybe a 1999 model. Dark blue. I saw the driver level a gun out of the driver's side window and when I turned to pull Julie down with me, he fired." I looked away. "They said I landed on her. Hard."

  "Devan." When he used my name it made me nervous. "You have been shot in the head in the line of duty. And you survived. Don't think for one second that kind of experience isn't going to leave scars you won't ever get over. Understand? You passed out. Your mind took over and took you out of danger. Brenner's a fine cop and a strong woman."

  A young man in a long coat stepped out of the curtain. "Ah, Captain Vale."

  "Dr. Longmire. How's Julie Brenner?"

  "She's good. Just a slight fracture to her left wrist. A couple of bruises and a scraped knee. She'll be with you shortly." He turned to me. "You should thank her for breaking your fall." With that he turned and headed back between the curtains.