Giving Up the Ghost

by Marilyn Levinson

  "Animals live, animals die. So do nosy people. Let the dead rest in peace."

  "Only the dead man isn't resting in peace," she murmured, all too aware of her pounding heart. After putting the cardboard, with its ominous warning in a plastic bag, she washed her hands and went into the den. "Cam?"

  She placed the bag on top of the bookcase. "I need to talk to you."

  To her relief, he materialized immediately. "Don't you look snazzy! Wait till Darren sees the new you."

  "I found a dead mouse and a threatening note in the mailbox. Someone wants me to stop asking questions."

  "Precisely what I asked you to do, remember?"

  "But I can't. I won't. Besides, it proves I'm making the murderer nervous."

  Cam strode past her and gazed out the window. "Nervous people are dangerous." He turned back to Gabbie. "I'm beginning to think it's time you brought Darren here. After all, he is the police chief. It's his job to find out who murdered me."

  Gabbie shook the paperweight and watched the snow fall. "I don't know. I'll think about it."

  "You want to find the murderer all by your lonesome."

  She slammed the paperweight down on the desk. "I do not! That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." But his words had struck home, and they both knew it.

  "I appreciate the gesture, but I don't want anything to happen to you, Gabbie."

  "Thanks." There was the nice Cam again, the one that melted women's hearts and lured them into his bed. Had Cam been a decent person or a devious betrayer of trust? She'd heard so many conflicting reports, it was difficult to know.

  "Tell me about Pilar Lopez."

  "Ah, Pilar. A sad and beautiful girl who made the mistake of leaving New Mexico and marrying Terry."

  "Did you sleep with her?"

  "Of course not! Just gave her some fatherly advice, and enough money to help her leave her overbearing husband."

  "Did Terry beat her?"

  "She wouldn't say, just kept rubbing the bruise on her arm. She cried and said she'd kill herself and the kids if she didn't get away."

  This was more complicated than she'd expected. "Do you know that Terry thinks you two had an affair? He's jealous and he hates you."

  "Probably, but I doubt that he's the one who offed me."

  "Why?"

  "Because I once saved his ass. Did he bother to tell you about that?"

  She shook her head.

  "I didn't think so. The guy's screwed up, but basically he's a man of honor. He'd never go after me like that."

  Gabbie clenched her hands in frustration. "Why is it everyone I mention has a good reason not to kill you, according to you?"

  "I gave you a lead. Fred Leverette."

  "What about the various deals you brought your friends in on? Some of them took heavy losses."

  "Hey, any opportunity I offered had the potential for making big money. But there were always risks. They all knew it."

  "Who put money into your schemes?"

  "Reese, Terry, Jack, Andy Russell, Mike Logan, Tim Jordan."

  "Tim? The high school principal?"

  "Sure. Why are you surprised? Half the town treated me as their investment manager."

  Gabbie rolled her eyes. "I'm hungry. I'm going to make myself a sandwich."

  "Hearty appetite. Don't forget to tell Darren about the note and the dead mouse."

  After lunch, she took a leisurely bath, did her nails, and worked on lesson plans. The afternoon passed pleasantly. It was dark outside when she put on her best sweater set and pants.

  Darren arrived precisely at seven. He kissed her cheek as though they were old friends and helped her on with her jacket. Outside, he opened the passenger's door of his silver Camry.

  A gentleman, she thought, as he walked around to the driver's side.

  "And we're off!" he said, suiting action to words.

  It was toasty warm inside the car. A Beethoven piano sonata sounded softly in the background. "The 'Appassionata'," she murmured. "One of my favorites."

  "Surprised?"

  "Yes," she admitted. "Very."

  "I like surprising people."

  "Oh?"

  "It's a great way to get someone to reveal information he didn't mean to reveal."

  "Like asking someone when he least expects it where he was when Cam was murdered?"

  "You're a pit bull on that topic. Just won't let go."

  Gabbie had a sudden idea. She flashed him a vivid smile. "What if I offered you proof that Cam was murdered, proof you couldn't dispute?"

  "I'd reopen the investigation. But this is pure speculation, right?"

  "Mmm." It was speculation. Her only evidence was a ghost, a note, and a dead mouse--if they could find it. All together they didn't add up to proof that murder had been committed. But she was revved up enough to ask, "What would you do for me?"

  His eyes lit up with a devilish gleam. "Make love to you like mad for an entire night."

  "Thanks, but I was hoping for something more practical. Like arranging to have the body exhumed and an autopsy performed by a reputable medical examiner."

  She held her breath while Darren considered this. "First I'd have to bring the new evidence to the D.A. And if he agreed the case should be opened, he'd present the matter to a judge for consideration."

  "So be it," she said.

  He stopped at a red light and turned to her. "Hey, you're serious about this, aren't you?"

  "I have something I want to show you later."

  "Sure. I'd like that."

  Gabbie felt her cheeks burn and wished she'd stop coming out with expressions that made her sound like a flirt, when her main concern was finding Cam's murderer.

  His eyes narrowed as he studied her face. "Have I told you how great you look tonight?" he said.

  "No."

  "Well, you do. I love your new haircut."

  She stroked the back of her head, which felt naked without her mop of curls. "Thanks. Tessa's art work."

  "A masterpiece." The light changed, and he drove on.

  The word "love" bounced around in Gabbie's head, tripping the panic button in her brain. The word's abused and overused. And he used it about your hair, for God's sake. Now calm down and act normal.

  She was relieved when Darren changed gears from sexy date to friendly neighbor, and listened avidly while he talked about Chrissom Harbor's residents. She learned that Mike and Monica Logan's daughter was a powerful international attorney in Washington, Tim Jordan, the high school principal was disputing his third divorce, and Darren's ex-wife and little girl, Cindy, lived in Seattle.

  "Sorry about that. You must miss her."

  "I sure do. But she's coming to spend two months with me this summer," he said proudly. "We'll do the whole daddy-daughter thing. What about you? Have any children?"

  "No, thank God." She drew in breath as she realized how heartless her comment must have sounded. "I mean, I like kids, but I'm glad I haven't had any so far."

  Darren patted her hand. "Whatever pleases you, Ms. Meyerson."

  She flared up, feeling misunderstood. Obviously, he saw her as a self-centered, plastic woman of the twenty-first century. "You don't understand. I've just been through a bad time."

  "Want to talk about it?"

  "Not really."

  "Suit yourself," he said agreeably, and began to whistle.

  Finally, to end the silence, Gabbie said, "What's the story on Jack and Adele McMahon?"

  "What about them?"

  Gabbie shrugged. "I don't know. I seem to know something about everyone else I've met. I've no idea what Jack does for a living, though he made a comment about moving furniture."

  Darren chuckled. "Jack takes whatever odd job comes his way. Sometimes he makes deliveries for the local furniture store; sometimes he works for Reese. He started up his own business a couple of times over the years, but never could keep anything going. Racked up some big debts." Darren tapped his head with two fingers. "The poor guy has no business sense
whatsoever."

  "Owing money doesn't stop Jack and Adele from eating at Logan's."

  "Adele earns a good salary as a legal secretary. And an uncle died and left her money a year or two ago. I guess they used it to pay off their debts."

  Gabbie remembered Adele's coyness when the subject of Cam had come up.

  "Was Adele one of Cam's conquests?"

  Darren started laughing so hard, tears came to his eyes. As he wiped them away, he said, "Keep on saying things like that, and we'll have an accident. Cam liked women, but he had discriminating taste. Believe me, Adele McMahon wasn't his type."

  "From her comments the other night, I thought she had a soft spot for Cam."

  "Maybe so. Lots of women did, but that doesn't mean he slept with half of them."

  "I see." And she was beginning to see. Cam wasn't quite the skirt chaser she'd been led to believe.

  The elegant, candle-lit restaurant was crowded, with several parties waiting to be seated. She looked around the room, admiring the lavender napery, the oil paintings adorning the walls. She was pleased that the tables were well spaced, and she didn't have to hear her neighbors' conversations.

  She was pleasantly surprised when the hostess led them to a corner table. "Enjoy," she told them with a wink as she handed them their menus.

  "I see you've greased the right palms," Gabbie said.

  "They know me. I come here from time to time."

  I'm one of a string of dates. Her good mood suddenly deflated. She pulled back her shoulders and sat up tall. So what? She'd come out with Darren to glean information and have good time, and that's exactly what she'd do.

  Darren asked for a bottle of chardonnay. Gabbie leaned back in the well-padded chair and sipped while their waiter took their orders.

  When their main courses arrived, Gabbie offered Darren part of her Chilean sea bass, and he gave her a lamb chop. "Next time you must try their special shrimp dish. It's outrageous."

  "Sure, why not?" Gabbie agreed, smiling at his reference to a "next time" and what it might mean.

  It means nothing. Come July, you'll be living somewhere else, and everyone from Chrissom Harbor will be memories.

  "This is a nice place. Great food. Elegant yet cozy."

  He beckoned her closer, and leaned across the table. "Don't stare," he whispered, "but isn't that Fred Leverette, with some woman who definitely isn't Jill?"

  Discretely Gabbie followed his gaze. At a table considerably smaller than theirs near the back wall, Fred Leverette was conversing intently with his dining companion. She was on the young side of thirty and as drab as her brown dress. Her granny glasses and long, mouse-brown hair reminded Gabbie of the flower children of the Sixties. But her small, plain face glowed with vitality as she nodded in agreement with whatever Fred was saying.

  Darren grinned. "Sly dog! Who would have thought...?"

  "That louse! I bet she's the reason he stayed late at the lab last night."

  Darren gave her an amused smile. "I say good for Fred. He and Jill should have split years ago. They both think they're doing Theo a favor by staying together, but they're not."

  "Oh, Cam, what a fool you were."

  Darren gripped her arm. "What did you say?"

  "Ouch!" Gabbie shook free. "I was merely thinking it's too bad she and Cam never got married," she improvised as she went along. "I heard they were involved. Chrissom Harbor's not the sleepy town I thought it was. It's a hotbed of sex and adultery."

  "Well, I wasn't fooling around. Allison couldn't take my hours. Soon we were arguing over stupid things, like whose turn it was to go grocery shopping."

  "I'm sorry," she said.

  "You were married, weren't you?"

  She paused, then said, "For six years--three good, one bad, two awful."

  Darren laughed. "Mine went two good, two bad, one awful." When she said nothing, he continued, "And I've no intention of going that route again. I'm one of those cops who's better off single. I don't have the time to devote to the institution of marriage."

  "Institution? That it is." She ignored the sinking feeling in her stomach. Determined to prove that his decision to remain single was one she supported, Gabbie raised her wine glass. He touched it with his and drank deeply.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  They lingered over dessert and coffee, and then headed for home. Darren drove fast, but Gabbie felt safe, trusting his quick reflexes as he followed the curves in the road. She let her head fall back against the headrest.

  "Tired?" he said.

  "A little."

  His hand found hers on her lap and he squeezed. "I want us to be good friends."

  "Sure." She tried to pull her hand from his grasp, but he held fast.

  "Scared?"

  "Yes," she admitted. "I've been through an emotional battering and I need my space."

  "I can understand that. It takes guts not only to divorce a rotten husband, but help put him away by testifying against him."

  Gabbie jerked her hand free and turned on him. "You bastard! You used your police connections to spy on me."

  "It wasn't spying. I merely made some inquires," he said. "I knew something major was bugging you. I had to know if I had a murderess on my hands."

  Her laugh held no humor. "Thanks a lot! Admit it, you were being plain nosy."

  "Interested," he conceded.

  "It isn't fair," she said, though most of her anger had evaporated. "You can access information about me, but I can't about you."

  "I'll tell you anything you want to know," he said.

  "It's not the same thing." She wouldn't let him see how moved she was by his offer.

  "Besides, as police chief of CH, I'd think you'd want to have me as your good friend."

  Her racing heart pumped even faster. Half of her wanted to scream, "Let me out of this car." The other half wanted him to kiss her. "I think I do, too. But I'm not sure what it means."

  "It means this."

  Easing the car onto the shoulder of the road, he turned off the motor. He put his arms around her and pressed his lips to hers. He started the kiss slowly, giving her time to become familiar with his feel and touch.

  She breathed in his taste and his tangy aftershave, stirred yet completely relaxed.

  "Mmm," he murmured. "This feels nice."

  "Yes, it does," she agreed, pleased he was a talker and not one of those men who remained silent when they made love, as though what his body did had nothing to do with him.

  Darren shifted, putting one arm around her shoulders as he pressed closer. She snuggled into his embrace, shivered when his fingers stroked the nape of her neck. It felt delicious. Exciting yet familiar. So much time had gone by since she'd been with a man, she'd forgotten the glory of it all.

  Slowly, he released her, a broad grin lighting up his face. "I knew it would be like this for us."

  "Like what?"

  "Like wonderful."

  "Is that why you stopped?"

  He turned on the ignition, looked around carefully before edging back on the road. "Absolutely. Think I want to frighten you away?"

  "You can't frighten me," she said.

  "Oh, yes, I can." And then he was whistling. She could have smacked his face for being so pleased with himself.

  She felt comfortable in the silence as they continued on their way. Gabbie liked the way their fingers intertwined, their hands rested on his right thigh, which felt as solid and sturdy as an oak tree. This time the Waldstein sonata filled the air. At the cottage, he pulled onto the rutted driveway and stopped behind her car. He made no move to shut off the motor.

  "Come on in," she invited.

  He hesitated, and when he turned questioningly to her, Gabbie realized he was every bit as nervous as she was. But right now intimacy was the last thing on her mind.

  "I want to show you something." She tugged at his arm. "I promise not to jump your bones."

  He smiled. "Okay. I could use your john."

  "Great! I mean, good."
That would give her enough time to put her plan into action.

  She unlocked the front door. As Darren went upstairs, Gabbie flew into the den and switched on the lamp. "Cam, are you here?"

  Silence.

  "Cam, please come."

  Nothing.

  "Dammit! You're never around when I need you."

  She felt the cold air before he materialized, a knowing smile on his handsome face. "And here I was trying to be tactful. I figured you and Darren might want some after-dinner personal time on the couch."

  Gabbie glared at him. "Leave my personal life out of this and get serious. When Darren comes in here, I want you to tell him what happened the day you were murdered."

  Cam shook his head as he dropped into his old desk chair. "You should have told him, gently and gradually. Darren won't believe his eyes when he sees me. He'll think someone put hash in his mashed potatoes."

  Startled, she said, "How did you know he ordered mashed potatoes tonight?"

  "Because they're his comfort food. He eats them most nights. Now I think I'll leave."

  "Cam, don't be a coward. Please stay so he knows I'm not a madwoman talking to the air. Damn, where's that note I found this afternoon?"

  "You put it on top of the bookcase."

  "Oh, right!" She heard Darren's footsteps on the stairs. "Now don't go disappearing, you hear!"

  She turned off the light and met Darren in the hall.

  "Where you talking to someone?" he said. "I thought I heard voices."

  "Just to myself." She walked into the kitchen. "Want a cup of coffee?"

  "Water will be fine."

  He sat down at the table. Gabbie filled a glass at the sink and handed it to him. "Let's sit in the den. It's more comfortable in there"

  "Decided to seduce me, after all?"

  "I'm considering it."

  "In Cam's den of iniquity? I'd like something more romantic for you and me."

  Her heart thundered as she tossed back, "I promise you'll never forget what happens tonight."

  She sat down on the couch and motioned for him to sit beside her. Stirred as she was by his nearness, she focused on Cam. Come on, Cam, she called silently. What are you waiting for?

  To her gratification, he materialized and faced them from across the room.