Two Ghosts & a Love Song (Dead by the Numbers Mysteries Book 2)

by Jennifer Fischetto

  Okay, so that's full of holes and doesn't add up at all, but she looks thoughtful, so she must be buying it. Truth is that if it wasn't for the ghosts, I'd mind my own business. Although "addiction" may not be the wrong word.

  She sits in an armchair perpendicular to the couch. "Why are you here today?"

  "I want to know more about Kit."

  She frowns and sits straighter. "How do you know that name?"

  Yes, how do I? "I, uh, saw it doodled on some old papers of your fiancé's."

  "Frank doodled her name?" Her pitch rises, and I sense jealousy in her tone.

  So she knows his identity. Good. Talking around it isn't easy.

  "Well, not a doodle so much as an angry scribble."

  Her posture relaxes.

  "He had jotted some notes and it said Angry Texts with Kit's name beside it. Do you know about that?"

  She shakes her head. "No. He never mentioned her to me."

  "But he had seen her before the two of you starting dating?"

  "Yes, but as far as I know it wasn't a thing. She was just a hire." She chews her bottom lip as if suddenly worried.

  "And you know who she is?"

  "No. We don't use our real names. I've heard her mentioned from a couple of the other girls and Frank, but I've never met her."

  "How is that possible? How many girls does Natalia have?"

  She smirks. "There are a lot of men on Long Island."

  I take a moment to replay her words. There's a lot of wealth on the island, especially in the Hamptons. I bet Natalia's girls know the town well.

  "What about at the party, when you met Frank? Kit was his date."

  She nods. "Yes, but I didn't see her. It was busy, and she wasn't by Frank's side when I bumped into him. I caught a glimpse of them when they were leaving, but it was from behind."

  I sit up straighter. "Well, that's something. What did you see?"

  "A woman with long, bright-red hair in a skintight black gown. The color made me think it was a wig. No one naturally grows hair that color."

  There has to be a way to find the answers. "What about Zoe? Maybe she knows Kit?"

  Serena shrugs. I widen my eyes, and she copies my expression. "What?" she asks.

  "What if Zoe is Kit? Is that possible?"

  Serena hugs herself and rubs her arms, as if warding off a chill. "No. She can't… I don't know. It's possible, but I doubt it."

  We need something stronger than doubt. There's no way I'd sleep in the same apartment with doubt.

  Serena starts shaking her head vehemently. "No. Wait. Zoe was at Sparks that night. I remember because I was scheduled to work, and I asked her to take my shift."

  "Why?"

  "My date that night, he specifically asked for me, and Natalia told me to switch serving shifts with someone. So Zoe wasn't at the party. She can't be Kit." She lets out a relieved breath and a giggle.

  I understand the feeling. For a moment, I got completely creeped out. But just in case Zoe got someone to cover the shift she covered for Serena, I ask, "What are your and Zoe's escort names?"

  "I'm Reena. Not very original. I don't know Zoe's. Even though she's letting me stay here, and I call her a friend, we aren't that kind of close. Zoe hangs with the other girls, but that's not my style. I like my privacy."

  Her life choice sounds lonely. This doesn't completely rule Zoe out. There are plenty of other girls too, but I'd like to narrow the list down enough to know that Serena isn't sleeping by a killer. "You're back at work now though. Have you seen Kit? Does she still work for Natalia?"

  "I'm not sure. I haven't fully gone back yet. I haven't gotten up the nerve. When I quit, I never thought I'd have to go back. It's not a bad job. Natalia takes exceptional care of us, but it's…" Her voice trails off. "Anyway, I have a date scheduled for this weekend. I can ask, if you think that'll help."

  I widen my eyes. "Oh yes, that would be awesome. Just make sure no one gets suspicious." I don't want her in danger again.

  "Of course, but why Kit? You think that because of these angry texts she wanted to kill Frank?"

  "I think she may have wanted you out of the picture. The flower bomb was sent to your house."

  She gasps. "In the beginning, I assumed the bomb was a mistake. Sent to the wrong house."

  That sounds a bit naive.

  "And when I learned Frank wasn't Thomas, I figured it was meant for him. But to think it really was for me." She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment. Then she springs them open and looks terrified. "Do you think the killer still wants me dead?"

  I have no idea. Except for the wrong house part, I had the same assumptions as Serena. And now I can't help but wonder what the police have been thinking. Why hasn't someone been keeping an eye on her in case she is the target? Isn't it better to be safe than sorry?

  "I think that you shouldn't worry. You don't have any enemies, so chances are this isn't about you personally. And if this was the act of Kit, she probably wanted you out of the way so she could be with Frank. That's a moot point now."

  Serena covers her face with her hands. When she puts her hands back into her lap, she says, "A bomb? Isn't that a bit extreme for a man?"

  I've thought the exact same thing. Why not a knife to the heart or a bullet wound to the skull, something not so dramatic? "Yes, it is."

  "And how would she know how to make one?"

  "Unfortunately, you can find that information on the internet."

  * * *

  Shortly after I leave Serena, I get a text from Enzo. He wants to chat, so I drive to the police station and park in the same spot I did last time. I have no intention of going inside and possibly running into Kevin Burton or even Detective Sanchez. Partly because I never want to see Kevin and mostly because of the other night. I've been questioned by the cops three times in my life. The other night, when Izzie was suspected of murder, and when my boyfriend, my first love, died years ago. Kevin wanted to blame me for his death, a hit-and-run accident. All three times have left me with a bad taste in my mouth. Nope, I'm staying outside.

  I text Enzo and tell him I'm outside. Then I step out of my car and lean on the hood. I kick a silver wedge out from under my foot. I see no one's cleaned up the gum wrappers. If Ma worked here, she'd order someone to get to it. I should take a picture and send it to her as a joke. She might get on Enzo's case until he cleaned it up. No, that will give him more fuel to prank me back, and I'm not sure I can stand another fake death.

  Enzo walks out of the police station and sprints across the parking lot. His brow is furrowed, there are circles under his eyes, and his complexion is ashen.

  When he stops in front of me, I ask, "Are you drinking enough water?"

  His frown deepens. "What?"

  "You look dehydrated."

  "Thanks, I'll get on that," he says with attitude.

  When we were little and Pop would have a tone in his voice, we kids would say, "What's with the snap and crackle, Pop?" We thought we were hilarious. It would make Pop smile and laugh. It worked every time. Now I open my mouth, ready with that same reply but decide not to. It won't have the same effect on my brother.

  "So, why am I here?" I ask.

  He scratches the back of his neck. "I want to know if you received any new information from your friend."

  He says it as if he's referring to my period, all mysterious and secretive. Well, I do appreciate the secret part. I'd texted him about Cynthia and her location about forty-five minutes after I left her.

  "How did it go with Mrs. Young?" I ask.

  He purses his lips, shakes his head, and looks disgusted. "The room was empty when we got there."

  Guilt grips my shoulders. "Sorry about that."

  He shrugs. "It's not your fault."

  Well…

  "Have you learned anything else?" he asks.

  "I haven't seen Frank since he led me to the motel." I think about Serena, Natalia, and the escort business. I want to share with my brother, but I don't want to te
ll the cop in him. It feels wrong to rat on them. No one's getting hurt, and it's not my business to share. Gosh, the gray area sucks!

  "Okay. Well, I should get back," he says and starts to turn but stops. "Are you really getting a cat?" A small smile sits on his mouth. He knows Ma would have a conniption. Is he hoping I'll get in trouble since I scared him? Nah, he's not a petty brother.

  "No. That had nothing to do with a cat. I said Kit."

  He frowns. "As in the candy?"

  Telling the truth would mean revealing the escorts. "Yeah."

  "Okay. Talk to you later." He turns, and I walk to my car door. "Oh," he shouts.

  I look up. He's standing in the middle of the parking lot facing me again. "Carly wants you and Julian to have dinner with us, at my place. How about tonight around seven?"

  This isn't making plans in advance, but I don't have plans and always need to eat. "Sure. Sounds great. I'll let you know if Julian can't make it."

  He nods and watches me get into my car.

  I grab my phone and text Julian. You. Me. Dinner @ Enzo's tonight. 7:00?

  When I'm done, I look up and catch the last few glimpses of Enzo walking back into the station. His posture seems heavy. Something is weighing on him. His job must be super stressful.

  My cell chirps.

  I'm all yours.

  Oooh, just the way I like my man.

  * * *

  Later that afternoon, I drive to Sparks for my practice. I spent the last hour in my apartment sweating over which songs to rehearse. They can't be too depressing or raunchy, but they have to move the crowd too. I finally narrowed it down to a ballad, one that makes you want to move your feet, and something with just enough sass it should make people smile but not get me fired.

  The tables are prepped with silverware and salt and pepper shakers, the lights are turned up full max, and the pianist is playing a soft tune I don't recognize. The bartender is slicing fruit, and one table by the stage has recently been in use. A chair is pushed out, the setting is off to the side, and a bottle of water sits ahead of a notepad and pen.

  "Right on time," says a voice behind me. "I like punctuality." It's Natalia, and she looks ever chic in steel-gray slacks, a short-sleeve, ivory cashmere sweater, and gray pumps. She takes the seat at the table and jots down something before looking up at me. "What song choices have you prepared?"

  Prepared is a stretch, but I hand her my sheet of song titles.

  She simply nods and points to the stage. I guess that's my cue to begin.

  Again, I feel woefully unprepared. I stare at the pianist with as much apology as I can muster. I forgot to buy music sheets. Where does one buy music sheets nowadays?

  I give my choice of songs, and thankfully he knows all of them. Whew, major embarrassment number one averted. Now for number two. I cross my fingers, take a deep breath, and open my mouth. One song after another, with just half a minute to breathe and gather my thoughts between each, I sing my heart out.

  The whole time, Natalia seems to give me half of her attention. Her foot taps to the beat though, so she must be listening somewhat. But she's also reading her paperwork, writing things down, and doing something on her phone.

  I concentrate on the end of the third song and finish it with more emotion behind the lyrics than I thought I had in me. Hey, that was pretty great.

  I smile at the pianist, who does the same. Then I look to Natalia for approval.

  It takes her a second. Her foot stops moving. And then she looks up and offers a nod. "Sounds good. I like your choices, but I'd work on that second one. You were a little flat in the first verse."

  I clear my throat. "Okay."

  "Micah," she shouts and points her pen over her head to the bar. "Give Gianna a water, please." Then to me she says, "Take a five-minute break, and then try again."

  I nod and quickly step off the stage and over to the bar. I smile my thanks to Micah who, up close, is buffed, blond, tanned, and not bad on the eyes. If I didn't notice this across the room, I need to have my eyes checked. Damn, he's hot. That doesn't surprise me. A swanky place like this probably wouldn't hire unattractive people. Zoe is pretty, the pianist is attractive in an older-man kinda way, the other singer is nice looking, and Serena is drop-dead gorgeous. Wait. That means I fall into this category of pretty people in their eyes too. Score.

  "Come here, Gianna," Natalia says, and my way in presents itself.

  I wasn't sure how I'd cozy up to Boss Lady. She doesn't give off the chat about your life and snuggle with me kinda vibe. But if she's calling me over, maybe I'll find a way.

  I go over to her table and take a seat. I glance at the paperwork. It looks like accounts-payable records from my angle.

  She picks up her phone and types in something. "You seemed a little nervous at first."

  I assume she's speaking to me, so I say, "This is my first singing gig." But after, I wonder if I should've kept my mouth shut. You never admit to the boss that you don't have experience in the job she just hired you to do.

  She sets her phone down, leans back in her chair, crosses one leg over the other, and stares at me. Oh boy, I'm about to get it, aren't I?

  "Yes, I assumed you were green when you gave us a deli pamphlet instead of a résumé." Her smile is surprisingly warm and friendly. She should definitely wear it more often. It totally softens her angular features.

  "Yeah, sorry about that. I hadn't planned ahead of time. I found out about it at the last moment." Like when walking through the door.

  She studies me for a moment. "I like your determination and hard work, Gianna. You've been there for Sparks twice so far. I admire that. So tell me, why did you audition that day?"

  I don't expect that question. "Why?"

  "You seemed shocked when you realized you'd have to get on stage and sing, so I doubt you knew what was happening until you stepped inside. The question remains, why did you step inside?"

  Oh wow, she caught all of that. I don't even remember her glancing my way until I was on stage. She's very perceptive. "I, uh, was looking for a job. I just wasn't planning on singing."

  I'm about to say how I thought I'd fill out an application for a server, but she narrows her gaze for a second, and I stop. It dawns on me that this is the perfect moment to do that cozying-up thing. So I keep my mouth shut and let her assume whatever she's thinking. Hopefully it's what I want her to.

  "How did you learn about Sparks? Were you just driving by?" Her tone sounds suspicious, and I'm glad. There's no way I could drive by and assume this place was hiring. There are no signs out front. She knows this.

  "Serena told me about it. We're friends." Okay, so that is a major stretch of the truth.

  Natalia doesn't take the bait though. She uncrosses her legs, stands up, and gathers her papers. "She is an excellent employee and woman. You're in good company. You should get back to practice now."

  That's it? It's silly for me to think she'd whip out a Natalia's Escort Service business card from her wallet or invite me to join. I'll just have to find the time to dig more, leave more clues. Eventually I'll figure it out.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  As I'm leaving Sparks, my cell rings. "Hello?"

  "Gianna, it's Mystic Aurora. I think I found something."

  It's all she needs to say. I shout that I'm on my way, click Off, toss my phone onto my passenger seat, and hightail it to the mini shopping mall. I park directly in front of her storefront, a little crooked, I might add, but my thoughts are on getting rid of Freezer Dude. Nothing else matters at the moment.

  I jerk her door open too hard and practically dislodge my arm from my shoulder.

  "Gianna?" asks Aurora from the back room.

  "Yeah." I start to run but figure I'll likely trip, fall, and break something really expensive, so I walk.

  I expect to see her at the table, reading her tarot cards, but instead, I find her standing at the back of the room. All of the furniture has been pushed out of the center and sits haphazardly
on the sides. And front and center is a large circle created with…salt? I flash to an episode of Supernatural. Aren't fictional demons held or killed by salt?

  Now that I think about it, salt is also used to melt ice, like in the winter, reduce a sore throat when gargled, season food, and ward off evil. It's some handy stuff.

  "What is all of this?" I step forward but don't touch the edge of the circle. I don't believe in demons. I doubt this salt thing will work with a ghost. But in case I'm completely wrong, there's no way I'm touching it.

  She points to a book sitting on a table to her right. The book is thick and old, with gold around the edges of the pages.

  "What is that? A grimoire?"

  She smiles. "I'm not a witch. It's just research. I think I found a way out of your jam. We need to gather the ghost into a protective circle and bind him to this world. Once that's done, we'll be able to banish him back to the other side."

  Is she flippin' serious? "Oh, is that all? Sounds easy."

  She looks up at me with wide eyes. "Yeah?"

  And she's delusional. "No. I was being sarcastic. How the heck are we going to get him inside that circle? Should we ask, pretty please?"

  She cocks a brow, and it instantly reminds me of Ma. "You're in a mood."

  I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. I don't mean to be a witch, no pun intended, but she obviously doesn't know how ruthless this guy can be. He's not going to willingly do as we ask. "I'm sorry, but this won't work. He won't comply."

  "Of course not. We will lure him in."

  So she has a plan. Good. I can't wait to hear it. "Okay, how?"

  "You'll be bait."

  Oh heck no!

  I turn and face the door, wanting to run out, but I know I won't leave. As crazy as this idea is, it's also brilliant. It could just work.

  "You'll be safe," she says. As if she can actually promise me that.

  I turn back. "Can you guarantee that?"

  Her gaze wavers as her eyes dart to the side. She's not a hundred percent sure. Then what am I doing here? I don't think Freezer Dude will kill me, not on purpose. He needs me. He knows this. But he has the ability to make my life miserable—late night booings, constant throbbing fingers, and I'm not really sure he won't try to harm someone I love to get to me. Or maybe I saw that on a Lifetime movie last week.