Dying to Know

by TJ O'Connor

  Hercule jumped to his feet and wagged. He barked first at Angel, then at me. He pointed his muzzle and stared down his nose at me, raising his eyebrows—first the one, then the other. He barked and moaned, moaned and barked.

  “Tuck?” Angel’s voice shook me from my lethargy. She was staring at me. Right at me. “Tuck? Is that …”

  “Angel. It’s me.”

  “I … know.” She stepped back and fixed her eyes on me. A hand lifted to touch my face but hovered in midair. “It was you the other night.”

  What? “Angel, can you hear me again?”

  “Yes …” Her eyes cascaded tears. “And I see you.”

  Doc Gilley was going to be pissed for sure.

  “Yes, it’s me. I’ve been here all along.”

  She came to me. Her eyes were soft and alive, but her movements unsure and unsteady. Her hand reached for mine but found nothing. She pulled away. Then she reached for my face and again withdrew.

  “Oh no, I’ve lost it.” Her hands flew to her face.

  “No.” I touched her cheek and then her hand. I felt a spark as our feelings merged—the warmth like a fire’s embers on a cold winter night. “It’s real. Real as it can be.”

  Her face flushed and she retreated into the den, found the recliner, and collapsed into it. I followed and Hercule slipped into the chair with her. He licked her face, soothing her.

  “Dammit, Tuck. It’s all my fault. All of this. That night … what do you remember? Do you know who killed you? Do you know why?”

  “No, no. I think that’s why I’m here. Why I’m back.” I knelt down beside my quivering wife and took her hand. I could feel her warmth but wasn’t sure she could feel mine. “Okay, Angel. I hope you’re ready for all this …”

  “I don’t know, Tuck. I’m afraid.”

  So was I. But who cares, because at that moment, we were together. I was as real to her as she was to me. Nothing else—including murder—mattered.

  “I don’t understand. Please, tell me what’s going on. How are you here? Tell me what you know. Did you see anything? Are you back because of me? Is it my fault you’re not … you know … somewhere else?”

  Good questions, all.

  “Slow down, Angel. It’s like this …”

  I took a breath and told her everything since taking a bullet in our foyer. I went through some things twice. Well, twenty times if you count the “me being dead” mantra. Angel tried to deny everything and twice left the den to check her sanity. Each time she returned. When I was through, she began sobbing and laughing at the same time.

  “Damn you, Tuck. I always said I’d haunt you.”

  “Yeah,” I said, swirling slow circles in my desk chair. “But that was to keep me from cheating on you.”

  “You’re right.”

  “But I got here first.”

  “Tuck, neither of us ever believed in, in, well, ghosts. Why haven’t you, like, you know …”

  “Gone into the light?”

  She nodded.

  “There’s no light—not yet. I don’t know if there is one.”

  “Then you’re staying?”

  “I’m not sure. I think I’m here to find my killer.”

  “Does Bear hear you? See you? Have you been around us all the time?”

  “Only you can see me and I have no idea why or for how long.”

  Hercule barked.

  “I mean you and Herc. He was first.”

  Angel put a bear hug on him. “Just Hercule and me? Because we love you.”

  Doc was right and I understood. “I guess so. Sometimes, I think Bear can hear me. You know, inside. Not that he ever listened before.”

  “That night, with his cell phone. You warned me.”

  “Yes. Bear wasn’t around. I knew you were in danger—it hit me right before the shots. Angel, there are some things I have to ask you. Don’t get mad at me, but I have to know about …”

  “Carmen was attacked. You told me it was at the campus.”

  “Yes, I did.” Carmen was my fault. “I got it all wrong. I found your earrings at the sink. When I touched them, poof, I saw her attacked in the university parking lot. I thought it was you. The earrings—the raincoat …”

  “Earrings?” Angel flushed. “Those were hers, not mine. She left them the other day. She borrowed my coat.”

  I felt foolish. “Yes, I know that now. About …”

  “You saved me in the rain that night—saved me again. Damn, you, Tuck. I don’t deserve you.”

  A wave of guilt drifted from her to me. “Angel? I’m here to find …”

  She dropped her face into her hands. “Tuck, I’m so sorry this happened. I’m so sorry you’re gone. And you came back. Is it all my fault?”

  I didn’t know how to answer that.

  For a long time, we shared silence. Neither of us understood what was happening—this strange connection. Neither of us understood anything. Just then, for the moments we were sharing, it didn’t matter.

  “If only I could figure this out.” I paced the room, stopping after the third tour of the bookshelves. “I have to find the bastard who killed me.”

  “What will you do if you find out? What happens then?” Her voice trailed off. Then, she looked around the room. Tears welled again. “No, you’re gone. Come back.”

  “No, babe, I’m here.”

  She brightened. “I can’t see you anymore, but I can hear you. Is this how it’s going to be? In and out?”

  I thought about that. “Maybe—I don’t know. It’s emotions or something. Like when you were shot at, and then attacked at the school. You reached me—I think it’s all emotions.”

  Angel sat in the recliner again and tucked her legs up to her chin. She seemed distant, distracted; perhaps denial was returning.

  It hit me that she was my only hope. “Angel, you have to help me—to get my killer. You can be my partner, now. I know what to do and you can do it.”

  She lightened a little. “Right. You’re dead and I’m a history professor. What a team.”

  “Hey, you’re not just a great pair of legs and … well, you know. Unless you think you can’t handle it.”

  “I’ve got a PhD, Tuck.” She raised one eyebrow. “If you can be a detective, I can.”

  “Your doctorate is in history, Dear.”

  “You never graduated college, Dear.”

  Touché. “So, you’ll do it?”

  “I don’t know. The university gave me lots of bereavement time off. And I guess that won’t be so tough.”

  “Oh? A few hugs and kisses and you’re okay?”

  Angel’s half-smile gave way to tears as she glanced around the room searching for me. “You ass, of course not. But dead is one thing and gone is another. You’re not gone. Not really.”

  Hercule moaned and dropped his head onto his paws, ignoring the mushy words that followed. He was still young and it embarrassed him to hear us carry on.

  “Doc told me I had to go easy—not to overdo it. But he didn’t say I couldn’t use a partner.”

  “Who’s Doc?”

  “That doesn’t matter. When we find my killer, I’m gonna return the favor.”

  Angel went to Hercule and rubbed his head. She looked sullen and upset. “Can a ghost really kill someone?”

  “I don’t know, but I just might find out.”

  Her face flushed. “If you do, will you leave? I mean, if that’s why you’re here.”

  “I don’t know. I …”

  “Damn you.” She burst into tears as she ran from the room, crying, “Will you still kill them if it’s someone you know?”

  twenty-seven

  “Someone I know?” Her parting words plagued me all night. When I asked her about them, she dismissed it all as stress, confusion, and the insanity of
talking to a ghost. I bought that last excuse. Nonetheless, Angel was struggling with something—something simmering just below the surface that slipped out in a word or a look when she wasn’t guarded. Whether it was confusion or insanity, she would not talk about it, and when pressed, she retreated.

  Even with her occasional withdrawal, we spent the most unusual night we ever spent together. We talked about my side of “life” and all that I had yet to learn. We discussed death and all we once believed it to be. She compared it to movies and books; I tried to find the answers to her millions of questions. Somewhere between “I don’t knows” and a therapeutic cocktail of tears and red wine, she slept.

  The next morning, she rushed through her rituals and climbed into her car. In the passenger seat beside her, I asked her again.

  “Angel, about last night.”

  She heard me but couldn’t see me. How and when I could materialize was sort of a mystery; one we hadn’t solved yet.

  “Didn’t we talk about everything?”

  “Well, you asked what I’d do if it were someone I know. Is there something you want to tell me? Do you know who killed me?”

  “Tuck, give me some time on this, okay?” She lowered her eyes. “Think about it. It could be someone you know. Someone came into our house—right into our house. No break in; no anything like that. Spence, Captain Sutter, even Bear, thinks it could be someone we know.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, and Bear has a key to the front door.”

  “That isn’t funny, Tuck—revenge isn’t funny. None of this is. Don’t push me, please.”

  She was right, of course; this wasn’t very funny. Despite her settling into our “situation” quite well—odd considering we just reconnected—everything that brought us to this point was dark and scary. Even more was unknown. When I found all the missing pieces, I had no idea what I would do with them. Revenge might cure my appetite, but it might also take me from Angel again.

  Would it be worth it?

  We drove in silence the rest of the way to the campus and parked in the front row facing her office. She climbed out of the car and had just reached the sidewalk when a voice startled us both and turned us around.

  “Angela?” André Cartier walked toward us holding two cups of coffee. He handed her one. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  “André,” Angel said, surprised as I was to see him. “What brings you?”

  “I wanted to ask how Carmen is. They wouldn’t let me see her at the hospital. I was worried about both of you.”

  “She’s alive, thankfully, and doing better. She has a minor concussion and some bad bruises. The doctor says she may go home in a day or so.”

  “Did she see anything? Hear anything at all?”

  She shook her head. “No. She doesn’t remember a thing after leaving here that night. Bear is handling it. He thinks it’s all connected.”

  André frowned and took a long sip of coffee. “Angela, please—

  it’s obvious.”

  “André?”

  His eyes rose and they were hard and angry. “Things are certainly connected and that’s exactly why he should let someone else handle this. He’s too involved.”

  Angel’s silence was chilling.

  Finally, André changed the subject. “I have some findings from the skull fragment we found the other day that I need to check against the original M.E. report.”

  “What findings?”

  “The M.E report suggested there are two sets of remains from Kelly’s Dig.”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “The report is wrong. There may be three, perhaps four.”

  “Are you sure? If that’s the case, we’re probably dealing with an unrecorded cemetery.”

  He nodded. “Well, I’m as sure as I can be for now. There’s other discrepancies with the bones, too. And get this—I found an old coin in the soil samples around the barn’s foundation. It was caked in clay and I didn’t see it until I got to my lab. It was …”

  “Am I interrupting?” Bear strode up from the parking lot. “Hello, André. Angel, I need to talk with you.”

  Angel’s face lit up. “André and I are discussing Kelly’s Dig.”

  “No, I’m leaving.” André glared at Bear.

  “Don’t go,” Bear said. “Did I hear you say something about a coin from Kelly’s Dig?”

  André shook his head and turned to leave. “No, nothing I can discuss.”

  “André, wait,” Angel said, but he shook his head and she relented. “All right. Please call me as soon as you know something.”

  “I will.”

  “Sorry, pal,” Bear said. “I just wanted to check on Angel.”

  André kissed Angel on the cheek and winked at Bear. “I trust you’re looking after Carmen as well?” He didn’t wait for a reply and walked off into the parking lot.

  Ouch. Professor André Cartier just scored a direct hit.

  “I’m sorry about that, Bear,” Angel said looking after André. “I don’t know what got into him.”

  I said, “I do. So does Bear.”

  Bear watched André disappear. “What’s his problem?”

  “Oh, you know him,” Angel said. “He’s been like my dad since I was a kid.”

  I followed Bear and Angel up to her office as they continued their discussion.

  “That doesn’t make him your keeper,” Bear said.

  “Funny, that’s exactly what he thinks about you.”

  “Yeah?” Bear’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe I should talk to him about it.”

  I stood behind Angel and said, “Tell Bear what I told you about Salazar moonlighting from his security job with Poor Nic.”

  She did.

  Bear’s face tightened. “How do you know that?”

  “Kirk Wallchak and Poor Nic were talking about it the other day.”

  “Oh, shit.” Bear sighed. “Listen, I’m not listening to the buzzing in my head and I suggest you do the same.”

  “Bear listen …”

  “No.” He changed the subject. “I checked the campus CCTV security tapes and they caught Carmen’s attack. None of the security guys were in the office so they completely missed it. Can’t make out any face or details, though—rain and bad lighting.”

  “Oh my God.” Angel’s voice was a whisper. “She’s lucky to be alive.”

  “And that begs a question.” He leaned forward. “How did you know about the campus? How did you know about Salazar and Wallchak? For real, I mean.”

  “Go easy, Angel,” I said. “Real easy.”

  She didn’t. “Tuck told me. He’s here. Now.”

  Oh, crap. “Not what I had in mind.”

  Bear jumped back. “I knew you’d say that.” He started pacing. “Angela, it’s all in your head. Hell, it’s all in my head, too. I’ve heard things, and it’s driving me nuts. He’s gone, dammit. He’s gone.”

  “No, Tuck’s here—so you better watch what you say … and do.”

  “I’m not afraid of ghosts, even his. Tuck didn’t tell you anything.”

  “Then how could I know?”

  “You’re a witch.” Bear tried to smile but frowned instead. “I don’t know. You’re saying he was at …”

  “The warehouse, yes. Clemens and Spence met Wallchak the day you punched Spence and knocked him down.”

  “Jesus. Anything else?”

  “Poor Nic asked about Iggi Suarez.”

  “Iggi?” Bear started nodding. “I need to find him. He didn’t mention where he was, did he?”

  “No.” Angel smiled and pointed a finger at him. “There’s more. Wallchak told Poor Nic that Spence and Clemens were asking about the murder. Poor Nic asked him, ‘Which one?’”

  “Which one?”

  “Isn’t that an odd question?”

&nb
sp; “Yes it is.” Bear’s voice trailed off. For a long time, he stood shaking his head. Finally, he said, “So tell me, why is Tuck haunting you?”

  “He’s not just haunting me.” Angel leaned forward on her desk and captured his eyes. “He’s here to find his killer.”

  “Then why isn’t he haunting both of us?”

  twenty-eight

  “He meant because you were partners, Tuck.”

  Did he? We’d been arguing that point Bear left Angel’s office two hours ago. “Sure, okay, maybe. I’m just saying it’s a strange way to look at this.”

  “Oh, please,” Angel said, sighing. “He doesn’t even believe you’re here.”

  “Of course I’m here.” I was lying on her office couch watching her work. “Where else …”

  Her phone rang.

  “Hello, Tyler.” It was Tyler Byrd and she put it on speaker at my request. “Yes, I spoke with Dr. Cartier this morning.”

  Byrd’s voice was edgy. “It’s disappointing that Cartier is already drawing conclusions. Your analysis isn’t finished and he’s suggesting Kelly’s Dig could be a cemetery. That could cost me a fortune.”

  “Tyler, we’ve not reached any conclusion. He’s trying to consider other possibilities on the remains’ origins. That’s the whole point here, right?”

  “Well, yes of course, but …”

  “And he has a question about the number of remains. And he found a coin in the site that might be helpful dating the remains. He’s onto something.”

  Silence. Then, “Cartier didn’t tell me those details.”

  “Well, he didn’t give me any details, either.” Tyler grunted something and Angel went on with, “He’s following it up himself. I’m sure we’ll both know as soon as he has all the analysis completed.”

  “He should check with Ernie Stuart.”

  “Ernie?”

  “Yes, Ernie.” Tyler seemed more relaxed. “Stuart and his historical society pals have gotten their hands on some antiques from Kelly’s Dig. I’ll deal with that in court, so no matter now. When is Cartier headed back to Kelly’s Dig?”

  “Tomorrow, I think.”

  “Good. I’ll pay him a visit.”

  When she hung up, I said, “Swell guy, that Tyler Byrd. I wonder what he meant about Ernie.”