CASTLE
WALK
Book 9 of the Lacey Fitzpatrick and Sam Firecloud Mystery Series
Melissa Bowersock
Copyright © 2018 by Melissa Bowersock
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publishers, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in an online review or one printed in a newspaper, magazine or journal.
First Printing
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cover image by coversbydesign.net.
ISBN-13: 978-1986030601
ISBN-10: 1986030601
Books by Melissa Bowersock
The Appaloosa Connection
The Blue Crystal
Burning Through
Finding Travis
(No Time for Travis Series Book 1)
Being Travis
(No Time for Travis Series Book 2)
Fleischerhaus
Ghost Walk
(Lacey Fitzpatrick and Sam Firecloud
Mystery Book 1)
Skin Walk
(Lacey Fitzpatrick and Sam Firecloud
Mystery Book 2)
Star Walk
(Lacey Fitzpatrick and Sam Firecloud
Mystery Book 3)
Dream Walk
(Lacey Fitzpatrick and Sam Firecloud
Mystery Book 4)
Dragon Walk
(Lacey Fitzpatrick and Sam Firecloud
Mystery Book 5)
Demon Walk
(Lacey Fitzpatrick and Sam Firecloud
Mystery Book 6)
Soul Walk
(Lacey Fitzpatrick and Sam Firecloud
Mystery Book 7)
Blood Walk
(Lacey Fitzpatrick and Sam Firecloud
Mystery Book 8)
Castle Walk
(Lacey Fitzpatrick and Sam Firecloud
Mystery Book 9)
Goddess Rising
Lightning Strikes
Love’s Savage Armpit by Amber Flame
(Originally published as
The Pits of Passion)
The Man in the Black Hat
Marcia Gates: Angel of Bataan
Queen’s Gold
The Rare Breed
Remember Me
Sonnets for Heidi
Stone’s Ghost
Superstition Gold
CASTLE
WALK
Melissa Bowersock
About the Author
Books by Melissa Bowersock
ONE
“Mmm, sexy.”
Sam couldn’t hide the faint rose blush that stained his cheeks. “The hell you say.” He ignored Lacey and jammed his wallet in his back pocket.
She grinned at him. In a black turtleneck and black pants, the only color on him, aside from the warm tone of his copper skin, was a turquoise and silver cuff bracelet on one wrist.
“I think you could give James Bond a run for his money. You look like the sexiest spy on the planet.” She went to him and put her arms around his neck, forcing him to acknowledge her.
“I’m not a spy,” he said, but his voice had less of a bite to it.
“Spy, medium, whatever,” she said. “I don’t care what you are, as long as you’re mine.” She went up on tiptoes to brush her lips across his in a blatant tease.
He circled her waist with his arms. “I thought we were going out to dinner.”
She nibbled at his lower lip. “We could cancel…”
“And tell Tommy what, exactly? That you wouldn’t let me out of the bedroom?” He raised one black eyebrow at her.
“He’d understand. We are newlyweds, after all.”
Sam leaned down and planted a quick kiss on her lips. “And I’m hungry,” he said. “How about we eat first and continue this later?”
Lacey sighed. “Such romanticism.”
He smacked her on the butt. “That’ll be for after dinner, too. I’ve been starving myself all day, getting all set for a good steak.”
“All right.” She gave in and slid away from him, but not before he grabbed her hand and pulled her back into his arms.
“One hunger at a time,” he said, pressing his lips to her neck just beneath her ear. “Otherwise, we’d probably get thrown out of the restaurant.”
Lacey laughed. “I guess you’re right. We do have a public profile to think about, after all.”
“Don’t remind me,” Sam said. He hated the celebrity that came with their success. The single press conference they’d given after the resolution of their last case, a serial killer, was enough for him. But they both knew that working under the radar was probably a thing of the past.
“Come on,” she said, tugging his hand. “A nice porterhouse will put you in a better mood.”
They got to the steakhouse a few minutes before their reservation time and were shown immediately to their table. Tommy Belvedere and his wife, Sharon, arrived several minutes later.
Tommy, at six foot six, could be seen navigating the crowded restaurant, his head above everyone else’s. Sharon, by contrast, was much shorter and didn’t appear from behind the seating hostess until they reached the table.
“Lacey,” she said, giving her a quick hug. “So good to see you again.” The Belvederes had been two of several LAPD friends at their wedding reception just two weeks earlier.
“Good to see you, too,” Lacey said.
“Looks like everyone here’s a crime fighter except me,” Sharon said. “You two certainly helped Tommy with that last case.”
“Happy to do it,” Lacey said. “Anyway, I couldn’t let my brothers of the shield flounder around too long.”
Tommy snorted. “We’d have solved it—eventually,” he said. “But having the team of Fitzpatrick and Firecloud did help, I will admit. But, hey, I thought the reservations would be in the name Firecloud, not Fitzpatrick.”
“Are you keeping your name?” Sharon asked.
“Yes.” Lacey smiled at Sam. “I thought it would be best for business to keep my professional name and since our cultures have opposite customs about names, we figured it was a wash.”
Sharon angled her head at Lacey, a question in her eyes.
“The Navajo culture is matrilineal, so the groom becomes a member of the bride’s family. Essentially, he became a Fitzpatrick, just like I became a Firecloud in the white culture. So we split the difference.”
Sharon beamed. “I like it. It’s very egalitarian, isn’t it?”
Their server came to get their drink orders, and the interruption prompted them to check out the menu. Once they’d ordered their meals, Tommy picked up the thread.
“Well, whatever you call yourselves, you can help us out on the LAPD anytime as far as I’m concerned.”
“I’m guessing the captain will want to keep our involvement to a minimum,” Lacey said. “Emergencies only.”
“Well, it’s kinda nice knowing we have a couple aces in our back pocket,” Tommy admitted.
The dinners were all that had been promised by the restaurant’s advertising. Lacey’s shrimp were sweet and buttery, and if Sam’s single-minded attention to his porterhouse was any indication, it was good, as well.
“So what’s up next for you two?” Tommy asked when hunger had subsided into contentment.
Lacey shrugged. “Nothing on the radar at the moment. I’m back to background checks and serving subpoenas. Oh—” She paused, glancing over at Sam. “This guy might be considering a career change.”
Tommy didn’t hide his surprise. “Career change? Not getting out of the medium business?”
“No,” Sam said. He toyed with the last of his green beans. “After a case like that last one, I realized it was unfair to my boss to keep taking time off work when he was depending on me. There are some construction jobs where one man missing isn’t crucial, but others where it’s a problem. So I’m thinking of going into business for myself.”
“But not construction?” Tommy asked.
“No. Pottery.”
Lacey almost laughed out loud at the look on their faces. Both Tommy and Sharon looked stunned.
“Uh, pottery?” Tommy managed.
“Sam’s family has always been master potters,” Lacey said. “His grandfather still works at it and he’s eighty-four years old. And…” She tipped her head at Sam. “With our, ahem, current popularity, we thought a lot of people would love to have an original Firecloud creation.”
Sharon’s look of shock morphed into a slow smile. “I’ll bet,” she said. “That sounds wonderful.” She leaned forward. “I want one.”
Lacey laughed. “Okay, you’ll get first dibs. And this way, we can both break away from whatever we’re doing when a big case hits, and it won’t inconvenience anyone else.”
“And if things are slow, you can live off the residuals from your TV show,” Tommy added.
Lacey pulled a face. “Probably not. I doubt the Unexplained Channel is going to air our show very often. We didn’t exactly part friends after that.” The one episode they’d filmed did not meet their expectations, so the promise of a series died on the vine. It was just as well. They worked best on their own.
Lacey’s phone chimed. She pulled it from her pocket and checked the screen.
“Well, speak of the devil,” she said.
“Who is it?” Sam asked.
Lacey turned the screen his way. “It’s Webb.” She hit the “ignore” button. “He can leave a message.”
“Webb Gannet?” Sharon asked. “The other investigator on the Unexplained Channel?”
“Yeah. I can’t imagine what he’d be calling about, but whatever it is, it’ll wait.” She put her phone away. “Who’s up for dessert?”
The night out was just what they’d needed. As they walked to their car, Lacey realized how infrequently they took time off like this. Between her P.I. work, their ghost cases, and weekends with Sam’s kids, they didn’t always make time for social events. It was a nice break.
They climbed in the car, fully sated both with good food and good company. Lacey started the car.
“Aren’t you going to call Webb?” Sam asked.
Lacey had forgotten. “Oh, yeah. Let me see if he left a message.” She grinned at Sam. “Think the Unexplained Channel wants us back?”
“I sincerely hope not,” he said, shaking his head.
Lacey punched up her voicemail and put it on speaker so they could both hear.
“Lacey, hi, it’s Webb. Listen, I have no idea what time it is there. Esmeralda and I are in London. We’ve been filming several shows here for The Restless Dead, and we got an offer to check out a place in Ireland, but we’re booked solid. I thought maybe you and Sam might want to take it.”
He paused. “I think you’ll find it interesting. It’s in an old castle. Castle Fitzpatrick.”
~~~
TWO
Lacey let the message time out and beep its completion. She blinked at the phone, then raised her head and blinked at Sam.
“Did he say what I think he said?”
“Castle Fitzpatrick,” Sam said. He looked as stunned as she felt.
“What the—?” She laughed uncertainly. “Is that a joke? Do you think he was serious?”
“I have no idea. Call him and ask him.”
“Yeah,” she said, amazed that simple solution had evaded her. “You have any idea what the time difference is?”
“Many hours,” he said. “What time is it here?” He took her wrist, checked her watch. “Almost ten. It’s gotta be daylight there.”
Lacey punched the speed dial button for Webb. The line rang once, twice. She was struck by the absolutely normal sound of the ring when it was actually summoning someone almost half a world away.
“Lacey,” Webb answered, sounding out of breath.
“Hey, Webb. Sorry. Did I interrupt?”
“No, I’m just ready to walk out the door. We’re filming in little over an hour. You got my message?”
“Yeah. That’s crazy.”
“Crazy cool,” he said, laughing. “When I heard I couldn’t believe it. And like I said, our schedule is full. This is perfect for you guys. You want it?”
“Hang on,” she said. She put the phone on speaker again. “Sam’s here, too. What can you tell us about it?”
“Not much, really. Guy who manages the castle called the network. They’d seen the show, were interested to see what we could do. I don’t know anything about the situation, what kind of ghosts they have or how they manifest. I do know, however, that they’re willing to pay all expenses. We could slot them in for next season, but I think they’d like more immediate help.”
Lacey and Sam stared at each other over the phone.
“You there?”
“Uh, yeah,” Lacey said. “Just… surprised.”
“I know. Pretty amazing, huh? Well, look, I gotta go. Want me to have this guy call you? He can give you the details.”
Lacey looked to Sam. He shrugged.
“Okay, sure. What the hell, right?”
“Right,” Webb said. “And, hey, you never know—it might be one of your ancestors you get to talk to.”
Driving home, Lacey felt like she had to keep shaking her head to dislodge the wild fantasies that were distracting her. Distracted driving—for any reason—was not good on LA freeways, so she forced herself to concentrate on the road.
“I’ve always wanted to go to Ireland,” she said as they entered their apartment. “I’ve never done any looking into genealogy, but it would be kind of cool if there was a connection to this castle.”
“Would your parents know?” Sam asked.
“I don’t know. They never talked about distant family. Maybe after we talk to this guy and get the details, I’ll call and ask them.” She set her phone on the kitchen counter and wondered what time it was in Ireland. When would he call?
“So you wanna take the job?” Sam asked.
“I think that’ll all depend on the offer,” she said. “But if Webb’s right, and they’ll pay all expenses, yeah. Don’t you?”
He came to her and slipped his arms around her. “We’ve already done two pro bono cases around my family,” he said, nuzzling her neck. “I think it’s time we give a little attention to your family.” He nipped her earlobe with his front teeth. “Now what was that thing you were saying earlier, before we left for dinner?”
“About you being a spy?” she teased.
“No, not that. The other thing.”
She pressed against him. “Something about romanticism? And hunger, if I remember correctly.”
“Yeah, that,” he said. His hands roamed her back.
“But what if that guy calls?”
“He can leave a message.”
~~~
THREE
As it turned out, their contact in Ireland was more considerate of the time difference, and politely waited until after eight a.m. to call. Lacey’s phone only said “unknown number” on the screen.
“Hello?”
“Hallo. Is this Ms. Fitzpatrick?” a friendly, baritone voice asked.
“Yes, it is.”
“My name is Harley O’Neill. I’m the property manager for Peter and Mavis Ellsworth, and I was referred to you by Webb Gannet. Is this a convenient time to chat?”
“Yes, it’s fine,” she said, sinking down into a chair.
“I presume Webb told you that we are looking for someone with your, uh, talent, did he not?”
“Yes, he did,” she said. “And he said it’s in a castle?”
“Yes, the Castle Fitzpatrick, as a matter of f
act. That’s quite some poetic justice, eh?”
Lacey chuckled. “It sure seems that way. I wasn’t even aware there was such a thing.”
“Well, the truth is, the castle has been in disarray for quite some years, so I’m not surprised you haven’t heard of it. A couple of years ago, the family decided it was time to restore the drafty old girl, give her a bit of a brush-up, as it were, and open her up to the public. That’s what we’ve been working on, at least, but now that we’re close to that end, we’re in a spot of trouble about the ghosts. We want our guests to have an authentic experience, but not necessarily a frightening one.”
“I see,” Lacey said. “We worked a case similar to this last year. We had to clear a couple of ghosts from an old Hollywood mansion.”
“Oh, my,” Harley said with a laugh. “How splendid. Well, it certainly seems that I have come to the right people. May I infer, then, that you and Mr. Firecloud might be interested in our little proposition?”
“That’s definitely a possibility,” Lacey said. She pulled her notebook to her, ready to take notes. “What did you have in mind?”
~~~
By the time Lacey got off the phone with Harley, she was having trouble containing her excitement. She fairly vibrated with it. After their last case, following in the grisly wake of a serial killer, this was going to feel more like a vacation. Releasing the ghosts, she felt sure, would be no problem. But to travel to Ireland, see a part of the world neither of them had seen, maybe even discover an ancient piece of her family—what was not to like? She just hoped Sam would feel the same way.
She briefed him on it over dinner.
“It’s north of Dublin, outside of a town called Swords. It’s on a hill overlooking an estuary. Built in 1564, it’s apparently had good times and bad times. Harley said it had been in ‘disarray’ for some years. I take that to mean gone to seed, but they’ve been restoring it. I’ve asked Harley to send a few pictures so we can see how habitable it is.”
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