by Terri Reid
Clarissa looked up at her. “Will the baby call you mom?” she asked.
Mary nodded. “Yes, I think so.”
“Then I’ll call you mom too,” she replied, and then nestled back into Mary’s arms.
“Clarissa, that is a good decision,” Dr. Springler said. “But are you still worried about Mary?”
Slipping out of Mary’s arms, she sat back in her seat, thought about the doctor’s question for a moment and nodded.
“Are you worried about Mary or are you worried that you are going to be left alone again?” the doctor asked.
Clarissa clasped her hands together tightly and avoided looking at Bradley and Mary and nodded again.
“You’re worried that you are going to be left alone?” the doctor urged.
“What if they don’t want me anymore?” Clarissa whispered, terrified at speaking the words aloud.
“That’s a very scary thing to consider,” the doctor replied. “And it’s very brave of you to say it out loud.”
She turned to Bradley. “How long did you search for your daughter?” she asked.
Bradley immediately remembered the day he and Jeannine were in the doctor’s office looking at the tiny figure on the ultrasound screen. He knew he had fallen in love with his daughter at that moment. “Since before she was born,” he said. “I never stopped looking for her.”
“Are there things you did that would prove to her you never stopped looking? That you always wanted her?” she asked.
“He painted the room pink,” Mary whispered, remembering the anguished joy in Jeanine’s voice when she realized Bradley had still painted the nursery as they had planned.
“Pardon me?” Dr. Springler asked.
Bradley turned to Clarissa. “Just before your mother was taken by the bad man, we went to the doctor and had an ultrasound. That’s a special machine that lets the doctors see how the baby is doing inside the mother. During that ultrasound, we saw that you were a little girl. I was so thrilled that I was going to be your father. On the way home, I insisted we stop at the hardware store and buy pink paint for your bedroom. Your mom thought I was pretty silly, because we had just painted your room white. But, I wanted my little girl to have a pink room. Then, your mom was taken. I searched for her and for you. I followed every lead and went all over the country looking for you. But when I didn’t have any leads and when I was just waiting for people to call me, I wanted to make sure that when I found you, you would have the perfect room. So, I painted your bedroom pink.”
She looked over at him. “You painted my room at Mary’s pink too,” she said.
He nodded, taking a moment to gather his emotions before he spoke. “I always wanted you to have a pink bedroom,” he said. “It just took longer than I thought it would.”
“How does that make you feel, Clarissa?” Dr. Springler asked.
“Not so afraid,” she said.
“That’s great,” she replied. “That’s all I want to do for today. But you all have homework. I want you to each take one of these notebooks and I want you to write down your feelings about your family, not just happy ones, but also angry ones or sad ones. Be very honest. Can you do that?”
The three nodded their heads and picked up notebooks.
“When would you like to see us again?” Mary asked.
“Well, I’d like to see Clarissa next week,” she said. “But in the meantime, if there are any major issues or problems, feel free to call me.”
“We will,” Bradley said. “Thank you.”
She handed Clarissa one of her cards. “And this is just for you,” she said. “If you ever feel really sad or angry, I want you to call me. Okay?”
Clarissa nodded and smiled. “Okay, I will. I promise.”
Chapter Twenty
Mary sat on the couch; her feet curled up beneath her, a cup of tea next to her and pulled out her laptop. She glanced up to watch Bradley come down the stairs. “Is she asleep?” she asked.
He nodded. “Yeah, after you left I only had to read one more chapter until she was fast asleep,” he said, sitting on the couch next to her and pulling her into his arms. “How are you feeling?”
She leaned back and snuggled against him. “I’m a little tired, but overall I feel good,” she said. “Today was a good day.”
“Well, good after you could escape the house from the fumes of the noxious peppers and onions,” he teased, kissing the side of her neck.
“Don’t remind me,” she chuckled. “But dinner was amazing.”
“Yeah, it was pretty amazing, if I do say so myself,” he boasted. “It’s amazing what these hands can do. Pick up a phone, dial a number and then drive to Imperial Palace for take-out.”
Laughing softly, she felt herself relax against him. “Well, I’ve been craving sweet and sour chicken,” she admitted. “So, you were my hero.”
“It’s so easy to be your hero,” he said, reading over her shoulder at the notes on the screen. “Now, tell me about the case you’re working on, if that will be helpful.”
“Actually, yes, it would be great just to get things straight in my mind,” she said. “Dale Johnson; a really nice man, great family, hardworking, salt of the earth type. He winds up dead at the bottom of a grain bin. The family decides to treat it like a farm accident —that’s what they tell the Sheriff’s Office.”
“So, no investigation, nothing criminal?” he asked.
“Right, no law enforcement brought in,” she replied. “Just one of those things. But, it seems that in the back of their minds everyone is suspicious of everyone else. No one believes that Dale would close himself inside a silo. No one believes that it’s merely coincidental that his death occurs just when it would be advantageous for them to sell the property. A sale that he was against.”
“So you have motive for murder,” he said, as he lifted his hands and massaged her shoulders.
She purred softly. “That feels so good, but it’s really not helping me concentrate.”
He chuckled into her ear. “Just relax and let the thoughts flow freely.”
“Okay, but wake me when I start to snore,” she replied. “So motive. The banker whose job was on the line and was dating the daughter said the sale was the keystone to the whole project.”
“So the banker is a suspect. He had motive and opportunity.”
“Yes, he did,” Mary said. “But he was awfully upfront and offended by Jessie’s suspicions. She’s the daughter he dated. They broke up after her father’s death because she either felt he had something to do with the death or she just didn’t like the way his company took advantage of the circumstances.”
“But they couldn’t have just taken the property. The family had to agree to it.”
“Exactly,” Mary said, sitting up and turning to face Bradley. “And Josh, the oldest son, was the driving force behind the sale. Quinn, the banker, told me that the incentives offered by Maughold were running out and they were offered close to ten times more than the property was worth.”
“That’s a lot of money for farmland.”
“Yeah, it is,” Mary agreed. “I don’t know why they were offered so much. Maybe they had the water access or the road access, but whatever it was, the Johnson farm was vital to the whole project.”
“So Josh sold the land soon after his dad died.”
“And then the project died. So they got paid a fortune for plain old farmland.”
“Do you know how much land was included in the deal?”
Mary leaned back against Bradley again and closed her eyes for a moment, trying to visualize the sales contract she had reviewed that morning. “I think it was 500 acres. Does that sound right?”
He nodded. “Yeah, the average farm in the area is close to 400 acres, so that’s right in the neighborhood.”
“And the appraised value for the land was $2500 an acre,” she said. “But, from what Quinn said, the incentive would increase that more than ten times.”
“So, you’re goi
ng from about $1.25 million to $12.5 million,” he said. “More than a ten million dollar difference.”
“Okay, first, I’m impressed that you could do that in your head,” she said, turning to face him. “So, you are in charge of helping Clarissa with math. Second, ten million dollars is a lot of motive.”
“What’s your next step?”
“I want to meet with the children and see what they say,” she said. “It sounds like suspicion has really pulled the family apart.”
“I can’t believe they let a little money destroy our family,” Dale said as he appeared in front of them in the middle of the living room.
Mary reached over and touched Bradley’s hand. “Can you see him?” she asked, wondering what Bradley would think of Dale’s broken and twisted body.
Bradley nodded. “Yeah, not a nice way to die,” he whispered.
“Ten million dollars,” Dale scoffed. “It don’t mean nothing if you don’t have family. Do you really think my kids killed me for ten million dollars?”
“I don’t know yet,” she said. “I do know that the land was sold and a lot of money was made. I know that although there was never an investigation, there is a lot of suspicion. They are protecting each other, but not trusting each other.”
“I thought I taught them to be better than this,” he said. “I thought I raised them to be honest and loyal.”
“Well, they have the loyalty part down,” Bradley said. “In fifteen years they haven’t betrayed each other.”
“You can see me?” Dale asked, surprised by Bradley’s comment.
“Yes, when he and I touch, he can see ghosts too,” Mary answered. “Dale, this is my husband, Bradley. Bradley, this is Dale Johnson, the ghost I was telling you about.”
Glancing down at his wife, Bradley smiled. She had no idea how odd that sentence was, and yet, for her it was as common as introducing a next door neighbor. He looked up and met Dale’s eyes and felt a mutual understanding pass between them.
“Not every day your wife introduces you to a dead person in your living room,” he said.
“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Bradley answered with a grin. “Life with Mary is anything but boring.”
“But worth every minute, I’d guess,” Dale said.
Bradley nodded. “Oh, yes, every minute,” he replied. “So, Dale, are there any other people, other than your immediate family who could have murdered you?”
Dale ran his fingers down his broken and narrowed chin. “Well, now, I haven’t given that much thought,” he said. “This whole idea of being dead and murdered is fairly new to me.”
“That’s a good point, Bradley,” Mary said. “Are there any other people who benefited?”
“Well, the obvious one is Maughold, but I don’t think they’d send a hit man out to do me in just because I wouldn’t sell my property,” Dale said. “There were plenty of other farms just as big as mine that would have worked for them.”
“But Quinn said your place was the keystone farm,” Mary said. “Without your farm the whole deal was dead.”
Pausing and staring at Mary for a moment, Dale shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense at all,” he said. “My farm was no different than the farms across the road. I never heard anything about being a keystone property.”
“According to Quinn, Josh got ten times what the property was worth,” Mary said.
“Ten times,” Dale exclaimed. “Why in the hell would they do that? There’s something not right here. They didn’t find oil or gold underneath my land, did they?”
“No, the project got voted down, so your land is just sitting there,” Mary said.
“Sitting there?” Dale cried even louder. “Like set aside? No crops, no plowing, nothing?”
“As far as I know, nothing,” Mary replied.
“My dad and granddad would be rolling in their graves if they knew their land was just barren and wasted,” Dale said, shaking his head. “You need to find out the story and you need to get someone farming my land.”
“I’ll do my best,” Mary promised.
“Well, you do that, but take care you don’t do too much and hurt that little bundle you’re carrying,” he replied.
“You know?” Bradley asked, looking at Dale and then he turned to Mary. “He knows?”
Mary nodded. “Well, he witnessed me not at my best,” she said.
“She was puking like a geyser,” Dale added, with a kind smile. “Same thing happened to my Greta every time she was pregnant.”
“Dale was nice enough to point me in the direction of the bathroom.”
“Seemed like the smart thing to do at the time,” he said. “The carpeting looked new.”
Bradley choked and then grinned. “Well, thank you for helping her.”
“No problem and congratulations, young man,” Dale replied and then, as he started to fade away, looked at Mary. “Thank you for all you’re doing.”
“My pleasure,” Mary said, as she watched Dale disappear.
Leaning back in Bradley’s arms, she sighed. “He seems like such a nice man,” she said sadly. “How could anyone kill him?”
Bradley wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. “I have no doubt that you will be the one to figure that out.”
Chapter Twenty-one
The prestigious accounting firm was housed in the historic Lincoln-Douglas Building on the corner of Galena Avenue and Exchange Street. Mary walked up the stone steps of the 1890s Italian Renaissance style building with its partial ionic columns flanking the doorway and pushed open the door. The tiled entryway had been remodeled to reflect the building’s illustrious history and immediately brought you back to a different era when Freeport had been a bustling insurance capital. Pressing the worn black button to summon the vintage elevator, Mary hoped that only the façade was vintage and that the mechanics were updated and working smoothly.
The elevator slid smoothly to a stop on the second floor and Mary stepped out, walking the few yards to the door advertising the accounting firm. Pushing the heavy wooden door open, she stepped inside an office space with polished wood floors, built-in oak bookcases and Oriental rugs on the floor.
The accounting business must be doing well, she thought as she walked over to the oak reception desk. “Hi, I have an appointment with Jessie Johnson,” Mary informed the young woman behind the desk.
“Just a moment, I’ll let her know you’re here,” the woman replied with a pleasant smile. “Your name please?”
“Mary Alden.”
“Please have a seat, Ms. Alden,” she replied. “I’m sure Jessie will be out momentarily.”
Mary walked over to the small waiting area, examining the magazines on the desk, Money, Fortune, Journal of Accountancy and Martha Stewart, and smiled —they certainly had an eclectic customer base. Looking beyond the waiting area into the long hallway that housed the offices, Mary noticed a quick flash of shadow. Watching carefully, she saw it again. The ghost of a diminutive man with large, heavy glasses and a dark suit jacket whisked back and forth through the walls of the office. He had a pencil stuck behind his ear and he seemed to be frantically searching for something. He stopped in the middle of the hall and stared at Mary. She glanced at the receptionist, who was busy with her computer and then turned back to the ghost. As inconspicuously as she could, she pulled her hair back over her ear and nodded pointedly. The ghost reached up and retrieved the pencil. With a wide smile and a wink, he bowed to Mary and then faded from sight.
Been there, done that, Mary thought.
“Ms. Alden?”
Mary jumped a little and turned to see a fairly young woman standing behind her. “Sorry, you startled me,” Mary said. “I guess I expected you to come from that direction.” She pointed towards the long hallway she’d been watching.
“Oh, that’s for the senior accountants,” she said with a smile and then she added with a whisper, “I’ve heard once they make it to the long hall, they never leave.”
&
nbsp; Mary chuckled. “You just never know about those things.”
“I booked the small conference room for our meeting,” she said, leading Mary down an adjacent hall. “I’m so sorry about the lien. I can’t imagine what that’s for.”
She opened the door to a small room that held a table and six chairs. In the corner was a smaller table that held a phone and a coffee maker. “Would you care for anything to drink?” she asked Mary.
“Oh, no, I’m fine,” Mary said, taking a seat and waiting for Jessie to sit before she began so she could watch her expression. “Actually, I’ve been doing a little investigation of my own about the lien. I thought it might be helpful.”
“Oh? Who did you meet with?” Jessie asked.
“Quinn. Quinn Edmonson,” Mary replied, watching Jessie’s face. “He was very helpful.”
Mary was not surprised to see the same emotions wash over Jessie’s face that she had seen the day before on Quinn’s. But this time, the one that lasted the longest was regret.
“So, how’s he doing?” Jessie asked. “Quinn.”
“Well, I just met with him for a few minutes, but he seems to be doing well,” Mary replied. “He remembered your property immediately. He told me that he really liked your family and made a…a personal connection.”
Jessie nodded. “Yes, we became quite close to Quinn when he was representing Maughold.”
“What happened?” Mary asked. “I mean, if you don’t mind me asking. He seems like such a nice man.”
Jessie stared past Mary for a moment, gathering her thoughts. “My father passed away, suddenly,” she said. “And the family was pretty torn up about it.”
“Not torn up enough to keep the land in the family,” Dale muttered as he appeared in the room next to Jessie.
Jessie shivered and rubbed her arms with her hands. “I’m sorry, it’s suddenly cold in here,” she said. “Are you comfortable?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” she said, pleased to know that Jessie was sensitive to paranormal visitors. It might end up being very helpful. “You mentioned your father passed away. Had he been sick?”