HOLY SMOKE (An Andi Comstock Supernatural Mystery, Book 1)

by Ann Simas

  “Fillings?” She shared another look with the priest. “Does that mean that the teeth don’t burn up?”

  “Yes, though their composition may be weakened from the extreme heat.”

  “What about crowns?” she asked.

  “Crowns often remain, depending on the resin composition.”

  “Do you keep notes on what metals are removed?”

  “We keep notes on everything.” Phil leaned forward in his seat and placed his arms on the desk, clasping his hands together. “Father, when you asked me to compare the dots with cremations over the past six months, I thought you must be having a joke on me, but every single dot did represent a cremation.”

  Phil took a deep breath and rubbed his face with both hands. “The specific one you asked me about—”

  “Sherry Spence Hemmer,” Andi cut in.

  The mortician sent her a startled look. “How do you know that?”

  Father Riley sighed. “Do you have to be anywhere, Phil? This might take a while.”

  “Everyone’s gone by now. Let’s go into the kitchen where we can get something to drink and I can fix myself a sandwich. It’s been a long time since breakfast.”

  Once they were settled around the table, each with a sandwich because it turned out no one had eaten dinner, Andi told Phil about her first day at her new job and the odor of smoke that had permeated her building. He was unsurprised no one else had smelled it, but he turned a questioning eye toward the priest.

  “Hey,” Father Riley said with a shrug, “you’re the one who confirmed the dots with cremations.”

  Phil nodded and looked right back at Andi. “There’s more to this story than some dots on a calendar.”

  Andi put down her ham sandwich and leaned forward. Even though she was nervous about admitting it, she said earnestly, “Please believe me when I say I’m not crazy.” She withdrew her journal and slid it across the table to him.

  Phil wiped his hands and opened the book. He read several pages in utter silence, then looked up at Father Riley and murmured, “My God.”

  The priest nodded. “Exactly.”

  Phil continued reading through to the end. “Sherry Spence Hemmer again. This sounds like something…untoward happened to her.”

  “I believe Father Riley and I are in agreement that she may have been murdered.”

  “That we are,” Father Riley said.

  Phil stared at them with a shocked expression. He pushed both his unfinished sandwich and the journal away and propped his elbows on the table, folding his hands together. He closed his eyes and Andi knew he was praying.

  When he finished, he said, “On the day Sherry was cremated, we had a problem with the grinder. The process is completely automated, so a warning sounded just as the cremation completed. Once everything had cooled, her remains were gathered and placed in a locked container and stored on a shelf. I wasn’t here that day because I had to transport a body to Portland, but the person running the crematorium made copious notes before storing the remains in a locked room.”

  Phil bowed his head and shook it. When he raised it, his expression was anguished. “You may or may not recall that a few days before, a three-car crash had claimed six lives, five of whom were from one family. They came through our mortuary for cremation.”

  Andi was uncertain how the tragic deaths related to Sherry’s cremation, but she certainly remembered the family of five. As far as she knew, their last earthly thoughts were recorded in her journal.

  “I don’t know how it happened,” Phil went on, “but once the grinder was repaired, the next body was put into the retort, and after that was complete, the next one.” He met Andi’s gaze head on, but his eyes glistened with tears. “You have several…voice notations from children over those two days.”

  Andi nodded, unable to speak. She would always remember those little voices, not sad, really, but poignant.

  “This is unbelievable,” Phil said. “Excuse me a moment.”

  Andi glanced at Father Riley, a question in her eyes. The priest shrugged.

  Phil returned several minutes later. He held a metal box with a lock on it. “Sherry Spence Hemmer,” he said, setting the box on the table.

  This is not the way it’s supposed to happen, Andi. At least not at this time of my life. I’m not supposed to be in a box. Not yet. But the answer must be in that box, Andi. Look at my teeth.

  Andi shook her head and realized both men were staring at her.

  “What did she say?” Father Riley asked.

  Andi repeated Sherry’s words.

  Phil Nelson plopped unceremoniously back into his chair, his mouth gaping.

  Father Riley looked at his friend. “Phil, I believe we have Divine Intervention here.”

  “How so, Father?”

  “Sherry is speaking to Andi. She is pretty clearly stating that she was murdered and that it has to do with her teeth. The grinding process that should have removed all the metal from her remains and crushed what was left, basically to dust, was interrupted due to faulty equipment. Said remains were then placed in this box” —he reverently touched the box that contained what was left of Sherry— “and placed on a shelf for you to become aware of today because of Andi, who can smell smoke that doesn’t exist coming from your crematorium. From that smoke, she hears the voices of souls who are crossing over. Except for Sherry, who seems to be stuck here because of….” He faltered, obviously uncertain of how to finish phrasing his thoughts.

  Andi supplied, “Unresolved issues?”

  “I’d say that sums it up in a nutshell,” Phil said weakly.

  “I agree,” Father Riley said.

  “Me, too,” Andi echoed.

  “What do we do now?” Phil asked.

  Father Riley pulled out his cell phone. “I feel fortunate that we have a broad spectrum of individuals in our congregation at St. Gemma’s,” he said, opening his contact list.

  Andi wanted to ask who he was calling, uneasy about who, next, would know about her…ability or whatever the hell it was.

  “Jack? Father Riley here. Are you interested in hearing about a possible murder?” He paused, awaiting the reply. “No, I’m not kidding.” He paused again. “Good…yes, now would be fine…Chapel of the Garden. Phil will be waiting at the front door for you. Thanks, Jack.”

  “Jack Harmon?” Phil asked.

  The priest nodded.

  “I hope to God this isn’t going to involve negative publicity for the Chapel,” Phil said.

  “Rest easy, Phil. If anything, that grinder breakdown may result in kudos to you for still having remains that can be examined.”

  “I hate to burst your bubble, Father, but any organic material that may be in those remains is long gone.”

  “I’ve done a little research on cremation since I met Andi, and I’m convinced that Sherry wouldn’t be so insistent with Andi if there wasn’t something there that could still be tested.” The three of them stood and Father Riley went over to put a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Rest easy, Phil. It’s going to be all right.”

  Andi wished she could believe him. “Who is Jack Harmon?” she asked, envisioning a psychic showing up next.

  “He’s a detective with Edgerton PD assigned to violent crimes.”

  “A detective!” Andi croaked.

  “Don’t freak out, Andi. Who else would we call to tell that Sherry Spence was probably murdered?”

  Aside from having God himself intervene, Andi had no other suggestions.

  CHAPTER 8

  Jack Harmon sat at the round table, nursing a cup of coffee from the pot Phil had just brewed. He listened, taking notes as the other three talked. He read through the journal and reviewed the dots on the calendar.

  And then he began to ask questions. “When you spoke to Mrs. Spence’s parents—”

  “She’s actually not Mrs. Spence, because she’s married to Vaughn Hemmer,” Andi said for clarification. “I knew her as Sherry Spence growing up. Can we ju
st refer to her as ‘Sherry’ for the sake of clarity?” From the slight quirk of his lips, Andi couldn’t tell if Detective Jack Harmon was amused or irritated.

  “No problem. Sherry it is. When you spoke to Sherry’s parents, did you ask them leading questions or indicate in any way that you thought their daughter was murdered?”

  “Absolutely not!” Andi answered, incensed. “Any information I gleaned from the conversation came from them explaining why they had kept the kids, even though Sherry had arrived back in town.” She went on to relate how the conversation had gotten around to the dentist, via conversation about people flirting or obsessing with either Sherry or Vaughn or both of them.

  The detective scribbled furiously in his narrow black notebook. He suddenly looked up at Andi, his direct green eyes doing something funny to her insides.

  “Explain to me again how you ended up at the Spence’s house to talk about their daughter.”

  “I told you, I went to school with Sherry.”

  “And she died almost two weeks ago, and you just found out.”

  “That’s right.”

  He turned his head to Phil. “And you say you just happened to have Sherry’s ashes—”

  “Remains.”

  “Remains sitting on a box on a shelf in the closet because of a computer malfunction.”

  “It’s not actually a closet.”

  “What was it, then, actually?” Detective Harmon asked.

  Phil raised four fingers and began to tick off his responses. “We didn’t just happen to have Sherry’s remains on the shelf in the storage room” — two fingers down — “and it wasn’t precisely a computer malfunction. It was a grinder problem, which the computer controls and knew about, so it shut down the process.” He realized his pinkie was still in the air and quickly lowered his hand.

  Jack looked at the priest. “And you came to be involved how?”

  Father Riley shook his head with a fond smile on his face. “I knew I’d called the right man, Jack. You haven’t changed a bit since you came to catechism and asked the same question twenty different ways, until you were convinced you’d gotten every bit of information possible out of me.” He related, for the second time to Jack, and the third time of the evening, how he’d met Andi.

  “Okay, all three of you. Let’s cut the bullshit, okay? This story has so many holes in it, it wouldn’t even qualify as swiss cheese. What’s really going on here?”

  Before the detective had arrived, Father Riley had advised Andi and Phil to tell him only the non-mystical parts of the story. Andi had warned the priest that wouldn’t work out so well, but she took no satisfaction in being right.

  She took a deep breath and met the detective’s infuriated green gaze directly. “I hear dead people,” she said.

  For a moment, Jack looked stunned, then he began to laugh. “Like that kid in the Sixth Sense,” he said, mocking her. “Very funny.”

  “No, not like that kid. I hear dead people.” And then she began to explain. When she had finished, the three of them watched him expectantly as he processed what he’d heard.

  Finally, Jack said, “I might expect this from someone I don’t know” —he looked pointedly at Andi — “or even someone I know only from church” —he looked at Phil— “but I sure as shit” —he glared at Father Riley— “don’t expect it from my priest.” He pushed away from the table and stood. “What in hell is going on here?” He blinked, as if remembering who he was talking to. “Pardon my language, Father.”

  Father Riley shrugged, appearing unruffled. “I think it might be more apt to say, ‘What in heaven is going on here?’”

  “You believe this crap?” Jack demanded. He rammed his fingers through his hair, disrupting his conservative cut into Rod Stewart spikes.

  “I not only believe it, I think you should do something about finding Sherry’s killer.” Father Riley extended his hand toward the detective. “Sit down, Jack.”

  As if he’d been a misbehaving altar boy, Jack sat.

  “Would you like something stronger to drink?” asked Phil. “I’ve got some bourbon stashed in my office.”

  Andi didn’t usually drink anything stronger than a glass of wine or a beer, but she almost said she’d like to try some.

  “No. Thanks.” Jack ran a hand through his hair again. He had a red polo on over his blue jeans and the muscles of his biceps rippled with the effort.

  Andi mentally slapped herself for noticing. She pushed the calendar toward him and began an explanation of what the dots represented. Once he’d looked at that, she shoved the journal in his direction and he began to read. Father Riley followed her with an exact accounting of his involvement. After that, Phil picked up the story about the faulty grinder in the crematorium during Sherry’s cremation.

  “You people are nuts,” Jack said. “Why didn’t you just give me the straight story to begin with?”

  “We thought you might not believe it,” Phil said.

  “Oh, I knew he would,” Father Riley said, and added, “but we have each been tested. This time, it was Jack’s turn.”

  Andi frowned. “I don’t get it.”

  Jack glared at the priest.

  “Maybe someday, if and when he’s ready, Jack will tell you.”

  Great, Andi thought, another mystery! Aloud, she said, “What can you do about this, Detective Harmon?”

  He gave her a smile, but it wasn’t all warm and fuzzy. It was more icy and prickly. “Since we are sharing such personal information, seems like we should be on a first name basis.”

  “Okay,” she said. He extended his hand across the table to her, but she almost didn’t take it. Was he being a smartass?

  “I’m Jack and you’re Andrea.”

  She relented and grasped his hand firmly. “I’m Andi.”

  “Okay, Andi.”

  He leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped behind his head. Andi forced her eyes off his chest and met his gaze. “Here’s what’s going to happen. Tomorrow morning, I’m going over to have a talk with the medical examiner, see what he has to say about the tox reports and what might show up in that box of ashes.”

  “Not ashes,” Phil corrected, this time with an explanation. “Most people think that’s what they are, but when bones and teeth go through the grinder, they’re pulverized, so it’s more like a fine dust. Sherry is still in the remains stage.”

  The detective blinked, his jaw flexing as he ground his teeth together. “In that box of remains,” he said. “Since it hasn’t been through the grinder yet, is it possible there’s something to find?”

  “Possible,” Phil said.

  “Probable,” added Father Riley.

  “Why do you say that?” Jack asked, leaning forward again.

  “I did some research on cremation. Certain poisons leech into the bones and teeth. They may still be found through various examinations, using equipment I can neither recall nor pronounce.”

  “That’s true,” Phil chimed in.

  “I also read that,” added Andi. “And some metals can show up, too. They may only be globs now, but they’ll still be there.”

  “Looks like I’ll have to haul butt to catch up with you three armchair detectives on this cremation stuff,” Jack mumbled, then looked down at his notes. “The dentist’s name is Dawna Stimack?”

  “That’s right,” Andi said and spelled out both names for him. “Will you talk to her tomorrow?”

  “I’ll make that determination after I speak to the ME. In the meantime, I’m cautioning each of you not to discuss what we have talked about here to anyone. Is that clear?” When no one responded, he said, his voice almost a growl, “I mean it!”

  Andi schooled her face into a serious expression, determined to retaliate for his earlier caustic remarks. “Does that mean I can’t tell anyone else I talk to dead people?” she asked, her tone innocent.

  His head reared up and she thought for a moment he was going to blast her, but then he laughed. “Yes, Miss Supernatu
ral Communicator. That is exactly what I mean.”

  Andi grinned back and saluted him. “Aye, aye, Captain!”

  “Smart ass,” he muttered.

  “I like to think my ass is as smart as the rest of me,” she concurred.

  Father Riley almost choked on his coffee. Phil looked like he needed that bourbon. Jack gave her a cheeky grin.

  Andi hoped the detective’s icy-prickly smile was gone for good. She really liked the way his face transformed when he wasn’t scowling.

  CHAPTER 9

  Andi could hardly get through her work the next day. Fortunately, she wasn’t focusing on anything that required supreme concentration. Brent wandered in once to see how she was doing and Lacey and Susan stopped by to see if she wanted to go to lunch.

  Her phone remained silent all day and at five o’clock, she shut down her laptop, grabbed her purse, and left the building. Before she even got to her car, her sister texted and asked if she wanted to grab a beer at a local brewhouse they both liked. Andi was vacillating between an ok or sorry not 2nite when her phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number, but it was local, so she crossed the fingers on her free hand and hoped it was Jack.

  It was and after he identified himself, he said, “I’m at the mortuary. Father Riley is on his way. Can you join us, so I can give a single update?”

  “Yes. I’ll be there in less than five,” she said and signed off. She immediately texted Natalie and asked for a rain check. She didn’t know how long updates lasted.

  She decided to drive over to the mortuary parking lot, thereby avoiding any questions the following day about why her car had been in the Orion’s Belt lot after hours. She passed Father Riley, who was halfway up the block. He waved at her and she waited for him at the door after parking.

  “What do you think?” she asked him.

  “I don’t know, but I do know that the police don’t have to give non-victims updates, so maybe it’s good news. Either that,” he added, “or Jack is going to tell the three of us to butt out.”

  Andi gave a hollow laugh because she didn’t find that amusing at all. “If he tells me to butt out, he’s going to lose his main source of communication with Sherry.”