Dead Wrong (A Cree Blue Psychic Eye Mystery Book 1)

by Kate Allenton

  I did. “So you two just hit it off?”

  “I’ve been with her ever since.”

  “Where were you that night she was shot and vanished?”

  “Here, until close.” He gestured toward the cameras high on the ceiling that point down to the registers. “The cops have video proof that I was here closing. We got a call in for six pizzas right before closing, so I stayed to help prep.”

  Goosebumps rose on my arms. He was telling the truth. I took a bite of the pizza and moaned. “This is good,” I said around a mouthful of cheese.

  “It’s my great-grandma’s recipe. God rest her soul.”

  I took a sip of my drink and swallowed. “Was Mandy upstairs the entire night?”

  “How the hell would I know? Like I said, I was busy.” His answer was short without elaborating.

  No goosebumps. Huh.

  “Any idea how your dad’s gun was found on the scene?”

  He shook his head. “My dad gave me a gun when I took over the pizza shop. He was worried about me working long hours and leaving at night. He’s made a lot of enemies.”

  “You can’t blame him, kid, with what happened to your mom.”

  “So it was your gun?” I asked, starting to get confused.

  “Yeah. It was mine. I never even took it out of the box. I kept it in the storage room.”

  “Explains how your dad’s prints were on the gun. He gave it to you, and you never touched it. Any idea how the gun got from here to Margarete’s house?”

  “Nope, but the restrooms are across from the storage area. I guess anyone could have slipped inside and taken it.”

  Goosebumps. Truth.

  Who are you?” he asked again.

  “Cree Blue. I own the Lady Blue Plantation just outside of town.”

  “You’re the baker.”

  “No, she’s not. She’s the psychic who is helping your dad beat his charges.” Freddie said loud enough for everyone in the entire place to hear.

  All gazes around the counter and the tables next to it turned to stare at me.

  “Actually I’m a bit of both, but it’s supposed to be a secret,” I answered in a whisper with a nudge toward the Neanderthal who had just shared it with everyone in the joint. So much for staying in the closet when a loud Italian knows your secrets. He was as bad as Mason about telling all my secrets. Maybe they should join a club, a let’s-see-who-can-divulge-more club. “I have to ask.” I paused for dramatic effect. “Do you know what happened to Margarete?”

  “No.”

  No goosebumps. I frowned at his response and the lack of tingling feeling, which indicated he was telling the truth. He wasn’t. He knew something.

  I’d never gotten to question witnesses before. My goosebumps and sign for when I was being told the truth were coming in handy. I was like a human lie detector. Maybe I should add that to my business cards. That was something I’d have to ponder when I wasn’t chasing ghosts.

  “Did you love her?”

  “God yes.”

  Goosebumps. Interesting.

  “Is Moreno your dad?”

  “I thought you already knew that.”

  Goosebumps.

  “I did. I’m just testing a theory.” I slid off my seat and pulled out my wallet.

  Freddie was quick to drop some bills, but I stopped him. “It’s not part of your job description.”

  I laid a twenty on the counter. “Do you know where I can find Mandy?”

  “She lives upstairs, but I have no idea where she’s at.”

  Not a single goosebump rose on my arm. Fibbing again. I tisked.

  “Do you know where she works?”

  “You might want to try the hospital. She’s a nurse.

  Goosebumps. Well, at least that part was true.

  “Come to think of it, I remember her saying something about taking a vacation or something.”

  Not a single tingle on my skin. Liar

  “How did Mandy come to live above your restaurant?”

  “The place was vacant, and Mandy needed a place to live, so Margarete told her about it.”

  I turned to leave but stopped at the last minute. “Mickey, do you know where Margarete is?”

  “No.”

  No goosebumps, not even a slight tingle or raised hair. Interesting, indeed. I would have asked him if he was sure since I knew he was lying, but I didn’t want to tip him off that I was aware he lying. Evidence and or people could go missing; he was after all his father’s son.

  I walked out of the restaurant with more questions than the answers I’d been given.

  Chapter 13

  I slid the phone out of my pocket and leaned back against my car while dialing Mason.

  “Spencer,” he barked into the phone.

  “Mason, we weren’t done. Who is that?” I heard the soft voice of a woman in the background catching me momentarily off guard.

  “Hi, Mason, this is Cree. Is this a bad time?”

  “Cree?” he asked seconds before I heard a door shut like he’d moved outside. “No, what’s up?”

  I paused, unsure what to say. Would a normal person ask about the woman? Probably not. I’d never be classified as normal.

  “Are you married?” I just blurted it out very unlady-like.

  “No… she’s… a long story for another time.” He sounded flustered. “Did you need something, Cree?”

  “Uh, yeah. Sorry to bother you, but I need a favor.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Outside Mickey Moreno’s Pizzeria,” I answered.

  “Damn it, Cree. I told you no investigating.”

  “I was hungry.” I answered and waved toward Moreno’s henchmen, each eating a piece of pizza while they watched me from inside. “Listen. I have a gut feeling about Mickey.”

  “You think he killed her?”

  “No.” No way did a man that much in love kill his girlfriend. “But I think he knows where she is, or at least what happened.”

  “I read back through the reports after your neighbors mentioned a boyfriend. They’d already questioned Mickey, but I’ll pick him up when I get back in town and question him again.”

  I hesitated. He wasn’t going to like my next request. “That’s not why I’m calling. I need to know where the tracker is on my car so I can put it on his.”

  The line went silent as if Detective Pissy Pants mulled it over. Seconds ticked by before he answered. “No. It stays on yours, and you need to just go home.”

  “Fine.”

  “I’m serious, Cree, go home.”

  I sighed, walking around my car to see if I could spot anything sticking out that didn’t belong. No luck. “Have a great interview.”

  I didn’t wait around for his reply before I hung up and slid into my car, not waiting on Tweedledee or Tweedledum. I’m sure they’d find me later.

  The moon cast shadows on the road all the way back to the subdivision as my mind toyed with explanations why Mason might have a woman at his house this late at night when he’d told me he was packing to go out of town. She’d sounded a little irate in the background like I’d interrupted an argument. It would be just my dumb luck to be interested in a guy that was serious with someone else. I’d made the first move and kissed him. Stupid, stupid mistake. My mind replayed the conversation we’d just had and the one at my rental. I almost drove right by the subdivision sign. Braking at the last minute, I turned.

  Lights danced behind curtains, and the streets were quiet and calm, with only one lady out walking her dog. I pulled up into my driveway and stared over at Margarete’s dark empty house. “Tomorrow I’ll know your secrets.”

  I headed inside. The package that Mason had left me was sitting on the counter. I poured a glass of wine and slipped onto a stool, staring at it in wonder of the secrets I’d soon uncover. I didn’t dare open the package, not without the use of Insight. I wouldn’t risk missing something important that could break this case wide open. Forgetting even the tiniest clue was
n’t an option in this case, especially not when finding Faraday’s shooter was involved.

  I got that tingling feeling to expect a call, seconds before my cell phone vibrated, and I grabbed it checking the caller ID. Billson Correctional. “Hello.”

  “Lady Blue.”

  “This is Cree. Who is this?”

  “Forget so soon? This is Dom Moreno.”

  I slid off my stool and headed for the back door to peer outside as if just talking to a criminal would make me guilty by association. “I haven’t found her yet, but I’m getting close.”

  “So I hear,” he answered.

  I didn’t even want to know how he knew what I was up to or what I’d found. “How is it you can call me without calling me collect?”

  “Don’t mind that. I found Faraday’s shooter and before you start pointing fingers, no I didn’t send them to do the job they took it upon themselves.”

  “Great give me a name.”

  “The shooter is being dealt with.”

  A string of apprehension coiled in my gut. Goosebumps rose on my arms. Truth.

  “I never told you to deal with the guy. I just wanted his name.”

  “Relax, Cree. I said he’s being dealt with, not that I put a hit on him. What kind of guy do you take me for?”

  I wasn’t touching that question, or I might find the next boots on my feet were plastered in concrete. Granted I’d manipulated him, threatened him, and coerced him into helping me, but I’d felt reasonably safe with him behind prison bars. I’m not sure I’d sleep so sound when he was released.

  “What’s his name, and where can I find him?”

  “You can find out all about it on Channel 13 if you turn on the ten o’clock news.”

  I flipped on the television, but the news hadn’t even started yet.

  “I kept my end of the deal; now make sure you keep yours,” Moreno said into the phone before the line went dead.

  Grabbing my wine, I sat on the couch and turned up the volume. Within the next ten minutes, there was a news conference on the steps of the police station. A picture of a dark Italian was in the corner of the screen.

  The police chief started to speak as the crowd of reporters quieted down. “Mark Manicello has turned himself into authorities and has confessed to being the trigger man who shot veteran Detective John Faraday. That is all we have at this time.”

  I watched as the reporters bombarded the chief with questions he either couldn’t answer or wouldn’t. The man in the picture had that kind of hard look about him. Tattoos covered his neck and arms, and an old scar ran down the side of his face. He was the type of guy you’d cross the street to get away from.

  My phone rang again, and I checked the caller ID. Mason. Butterflies still danced in my stomach, even though I was hesitant to find out who that other woman might be. “Hello.”

  “Did you see the news?”

  “Yep. Moreno called and told me to watch it. He said he kept his end of the bargain. I’m still in shock.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  “How do you think Moreno convinced him to turn himself in?”

  “I’m sure the guy was more scared of what Moreno might do to him than what he’ll face in jail. I warned you, Cree, these are bad people.”

  Everyone had been warning me that Moreno was the head cheese. Had I really gotten all this wrong? He might not have been the one to pull the trigger since he was with a mysterious blonde, but he was extremely capable of having a hit placed on the librarian’s head. Crap. No. I shook my head. My feelers and goosebumps had never been wrong. Would this be the first time? “I heard your message loud and clear.”

  “Cree… about earlier.”

  I stopped him mid-sentence. “It’s okay. You don’t owe me an explanation. It’s not like we’re dating. Heck, I kissed you first. I should have asked if you were in a relationship or serious with someone else.”

  “I kissed you back, and besides, I’m not, not in the way you think.”

  I lowered my head and closed my eyes. “Good luck, Mason.”

  Two additional glasses of wine later, and I could barely keep my eyes open. I had a busy day tomorrow, taking the librarian’s evidence to the plantation to find out once and for all what had really happened to the missing woman. I triple-checked my locks and headed for bed.

  Chapter 14

  T here was never a good reason to wake up before eight in the morning. It has always been my motto that the early bird can keep the worm. Tuning in beneath the veil always drained me and kept me a hard sleeper on most nights.

  I’m not sure what woke me as I rested my hand over my heart to calm the beats. The room was familiar enough in a woman-was-murdered-next-door kind of way and the place I’d been calling home for the last week or so. Closing my eyes, I strained to hear anything or anyone out of place, and I was met with silence. Pure, unnatural silence, the deafening kind, where you all you can hear is the sound of your breath escaping your lips.

  The sound of my doorbell broke the silence the same time I got the tingling feeling a call was coming in. I threw the covers to the side letting them land in a heap on the floor the second my cell rang. Stumbling over the covers, I ignored my cell and wiped the sleep from my eyes while making my way to the door. I unlocked the deadbolt, grumbling beneath my breath. Whoever was outside needed to be the taught the proper etiquette for an appropriate time to visit.

  I peered behind the curtains to find news vans parked on the street and reporters standing outside. Irritation coiled down my spine as I yanked the door open. “Do you guys have any idea of the time?”

  I was greeted by blinding flashes and microphones shoved in my face.

  “Sources say that you’re working to get Moreno out of jail. Is there any validity to that claim, and if so, how do you plan to get him out?” someone asked.

  “Do you see more than ghosts? Does the rest of the Blue family have your abilities?”

  “Why are you living in the Shady Oak Subdivision when you own a plantation?”

  “How long have you been working with the police department, and which cases are you responsible for solving?”

  The reporters’ questions came fast and clipped like the flashes that continued. Neither broke the haze that covered my mind as I tried to make sense out of what was going on.

  “Uh…” I stared around at all of my neighbors out in their yards and sorted through the faces of the people on my stoop. One face stood out, and judging by the scowl on her face, Ava was none too happy by what she was hearing. I’d be lucky if my lease wasn’t revoked. “No comment.”

  I shut the door and locked it. Pressing my back up to the wood, I clenched my eyes closed. Where in the heck had they gotten that their information? I hurried back through the house and grabbed my phone to find I had four missed calls, all from Charlotte. I listened to the first one as I headed into the bathroom. Her words faded out as I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My hair was standing on end and in tangles. The mascara and eyeliner I’d forgotten to take off was smudged down my face like I’d gotten drunk last night and stayed out partying. I looked like a psychotic mess, and now everyone in Billson would have a good laugh at my expense if they were laughing at all. I was probably the most hated person in town with the way they portrayed me helping a criminal. Technically I was, but only because he was innocent of the crime that had gotten him locked up.

  I hit replay on my messages. “Cree, you need to call me,” Charlotte said.

  The second was a bit more urgent. “We have a problem, call me back.”

  The third she was on the verge of hysterics. “Reporters are camped outside the Lady Blue gate.”

  In the fourth, her voice trembled. “Feds showed up at the Lady Blue wanting to ask you some questions. I told them you weren’t here, but they left a card. They want you to call them. Cree, what the hell is going on? What did you do?”

  I hopped in the shower. The entire time I was playing over different ways that I coul
d get out of the house without detection. If reporters were camped outside and at the Lady Blue, there was only one other way onto that property, through dark spider-infested stone tunnels that my ancestors had built during one of the wars. I shivered at the thought.

  A plan started to form in my mind, one that could end this for good. It was risky, but it was the best shot I had. I hurried to dry my hair and changed into respectable clothes and grabbed the evidence bag that Mason had brought over. Letting out a shaky breath, I pulled open the door to find all the reporters talking amongst themselves next to their news vans.

  They clamored with their cameras and video equipment as they ran again into the yard. I smiled sweetly at each of them and held the bag firmly in my grasp before clearing my throat.

  “Thank you each for coming. I know what I do is unorthodox, and many may not believe in what I can do, but the truth is I sometimes help work on cold cases.”

  “Is it true that you’re helping to get Moreno out of jail?”

  I shrugged. “He’s innocent of this crime.”

  “But not countless others,” one called out.

  “I’m not a cop.” I let my gaze run over each of them. “I’m sure if he’s responsible for anything, the police are working hard to find the evidence to prove it. However, in the case of the Margarete Stead, I believe the police got it wrong, and that means there is still some diabolical killer out on the loose. If I can help, I feel it’s my civic duty to see that the correct person is brought to justice.”

  “Who is the correct person?” the reporter standing closest to me asked before shoving her microphone in my face.

  I smiled and stared into the camera, holding up the package in my hand. “I’m hoping to have more information in the next twenty-four hours. Thank you.”

  They were still shouting out questions as I pushed through the crowd toward my Jeep. One of the tires was half deflated, and all the bravado I’d just shown in front of the camera escaped out on a sigh. Ava was standing next to her husband on the sidewalk across the street. He had a phone pressed to his ear, and Ava had her fist rested on her hip. She pegged me with her glare as a hand landed on my arm, making me jump.