by Joelle Ayers
Hopefully, that end was near.
“May I help you?” The Mr. Belvedere lookalike asked.
I held in a smile when Josh’s reference came to mind again. “Uh … yes, actually. We were hoping to speak with the manager?”
The guy looked us up and down before replying. “I’m afraid you’ve popped in one of our busiest nights of the week. There’s no way I can pull him away at the moment.”
We were holding up a fast-growing like as people waited behind us to be seated per their reservations. I was sweating bullets.
I leaned in, deciding to threaten to make a scene if my demands weren’t met.
“I think he’ll want to see us,” I whispered. “We were here last night with family and…” I paused to look around, lowering my voice even more before finishing. “My sister is quite ill from the lobster thermidor.”
Belvedere glanced left and right to make sure no one heard. “Come with me, please.”
Walking behind the man as he led us toward the back of the building, I gave Josh a quick thumbs-up.
“You studied their menu?” he asked quietly.
I laughed and told him the truth. “A little, but only to see how upscale it was. Honestly? We have The Sims to thank for that one. It’s one of the meals I unlocked the other day and it looked fancy, so I went with it.”
Unimpressed, Josh stared.
“What?” I shrugged. “It was the first thing that came to mind.”
He shook his head. “Now we’ve resorted to relying on our gaming knowledge to get us out of tight spaces.”
“It worked, didn’t it?”
He couldn’t argue with that, especially seeing as how we were now standing outside the door of a nicely hidden, private office away from the hustle and bustle of the actual restaurant.
“Wait here,” Belvedere stated.
He disappeared inside the office for a moment and Josh and I stood in silence. Half a minute later, he returned, holding the door for us to enter. Once inside, he promptly closed it behind us and the moment of truth had arrived.
Behind a heavy, wooden desk, sat a stern-faced, middle-aged man who hadn’t looked up even to greet us.
“Oliver tells me there was an issue with the lobster your relative ordered last night?” he asked, giving us Belvedere’s real name.
I cleared my throat and took a step closer, feeling like the Cowardly Lion when he went to stand before the Wizard.
There was no point in keeping up the lie any further from this point. It’d taken us as far as it could go. It was time to press Carlton Shelter for details.
Details Matthew Duggan thought were important enough to give me his name so early on. If only I’d known then what it meant.
“Actually … that’s not why we’re here.”
For the first time since stepping foot inside his office, Carlton lifted his head, sizing Josh and I up with a slow glance.
“Then what’s this about?” he sighed.
Judging by the neatly arranged stacks of papers and folders on his desk, I gathered he was a busy man, an important man. However, I wouldn’t let that intimidate me to the point that I couldn’t accomplish tonight’s goal.
“I write for The Shores Chronicle and I’ve been researching the deal you, Maureen, and Matthew Duggan were supposed to be making with Xavier Britt,” I admitted, keeping things vague for now.
Thinking I was just some overly ambitious reporter, Carlton sighed heavily from his side of the desk, folding both arms across his chest when he did.
“I spoke with Mr. Britt this afternoon,” I added, “and he suggested that I come talk to you.”
Carlton lifted his hands into the air briefly. “There’s nothing to tell. A deal was in the works and … then it wasn’t. End of story.”
Only, I didn’t think that was the end of the story. It felt like there was more. I just needed proof I was right.
“Why didn’t the merger take place?” I asked.
Carlton was clearly not in the mood for this. “Because all parties involved have to be on board, have to agree it’s the best move for the business, and we didn’t have that.”
“Maureen and Matthew pulled out of the deal?”
Carlton breathed deep, but answered, which I considered a small win for our side.
“Maureen was more of a silent partner, so she was on board with anything that would bring her higher earnings,” he shared. “It was Matthew who decided it wasn’t in our best interest to continue.” There was a long pause and I stayed quiet, hoping he’d reveal more. “Or should I say, he decided it wasn’t in his best interest to continue.”
There was something hidden beneath his tone—frustration, bitterness.
Things that might cause a man to do something rash in the heat of the moment.
“Were you at Matthew Duggan’s home the night he died in the accident?”
Josh turned to stare when the brash question flew from my mouth, but I had to ask it.
“I’ve read all the reports,” I added. “And I don’t remember seeing your name listed, but there were quite a few who were unaccounted for.” I shrugged and held Carlton’s gaze. “Just wondering if you were one of them.”
His focus narrowed and I noticed. He replied through clenched teeth. “I was there, but it’s not exactly a secret. My name missing from whatever miniscule articles you all run at The Island Chronicle is mostly a technicality. Police reports have me listed as an attendant,” he shared. “Although, I’m unsure what any of this has to do with the merger.”
His eyes narrowed as I guessed suspicion set in.
“What’s this really about?” he asked, leaning back in his seat casually.
I’d already stopped beating around the bush, so it didn’t make sense to backtrack now. Instead, I’d go with something I saw cops on TV do—drop a bomb of a statement and watch the suspects reaction.
And that’s what Carlton Shelter was, a suspect.
“Regardless of what the police have to say about it, I don’t believe Matthew’s death was an accident.”
“That’s absurd,” Carlton laughed, but I continued on with my theory.
“I think he was in bed with some pretty shady characters and, between that and his tendency to screw people over when it suited him, I think someone arranged for him to die that night” I added. “I think someone finally decided to give him a taste of his own medicine and acted selfishly. I think he was in the way, or crossed one too many people and someone finally—”
“…gave him what he deserved?” Carlton interjected, finishing my sentence.
His expression was deadpan and my heart was beating so loudly, I was surprised he and Josh couldn’t hear it, too. On second thought, considering Josh was far more than human, I wasn’t so sure he couldn’t.
Like Jekyll and Hide, Carlton traded in the sinister expression for a wicked smile.
“But that would be crazy talk,” he chuckled. “Because Matt’s death was clearly an accident, caused by his inability to drink responsibly.”
My eyes narrowed. “If you knew he had a few too many drinks, why didn’t you bother stopping him?” I asked. “I mean … that’s what a friend would’ve done.”
The smile faded from his face. “Trust me, if I’d been around when he left, I would’ve stopped him, but I was in the restroom.”
My brow twitched when Carlton decided to use that as his excuse. I’d studied the police reports and eyewitness accounts from that night backwards and frontwards at least a hundred times. And one of the details I recalled came to mind.
“You were in the restroom?” I asked, just needing Carlton to confirm.
He nodded, keeping that cold stare set on me.
“That’s interesting.”
He settled deeper into his seat with a sigh, dawning a confident smile I think he meant to throw me off his scent. But it wasn’t happening. “Interesting? Why’s that?”
I took a step closer to his desk. “It’s interesting because I distinctly
remember two other guests stating that they, too, were in the restroom at the time Matthew left. And I also know the Duggan house only has two bathrooms.”
Thanks to my pretend house hunting ordeal and brief chat with the realtor in charge of unloading the property, I had quite a few of the house’s stats.
Stats I had no idea I’d need. More and more it felt like Matthew had guided my steps in this case. Even at times I wasn’t aware.
“So,” I went on, “unless there’s an outhouse on the premises, I’m gonna go out on a limb and say I think you were in position to stop Duggan if you wanted to.” I stared him down. “Only, I don’t think you wanted to.”
A flash hit me out of nowhere, a vision. It was of Duggan and I recognized the setting from pictures I’d seen on the realtor’s site. It was his home. Drinks were being handed to him left and right and I wasn’t surprised to see they were being offered to him by one person.
Carlton Shelter.
My gaze locked with his again.
“You got him drunk on purpose,” I accused, knowing I had nothing to back up my claim. Nothing aside from what Matthew Duggan had shown me.
“You got him drunk and then coerced him into making a beer run that night.”
The look on Carlton’s face was priceless. “Watch it,” he warned, speaking low and even. “You’re treading on thin ice, throwing around accusations like that.”
“If it’s baseless … why are you lying about where you were?”
He shrugged off the question. “Maybe I wasn’t in the restroom. We all had a lot to drink that night. Not just Matt. It’s possible my timeline is off by a bit.”
I nodded. How convenient.
“Hmm…” I stopped in my tracks, finally understanding what it all accumulated to. The message on my computer, giving me Carlton’s name; Being led to Maureen who ultimately led me to Xavier Britt, who eventually led me to Carlton Shelter.
A light touch to my elbow made me calm. I glanced over to Josh and his eyes said it all. He thought it was best to back off from here. I think it was fresh in both our minds how the last investigation ended, so I heeded his warning. If he had a bad feeling about me pushing, I wouldn’t push.
“Thank you for your time,” I said begrudgingly.
I knew this guy had played a huge role in the death of Matthew Duggan. Only, given the nature of how he died, it’d be next to impossible to prove there was any sort of foul play involved.
“Thank you for visiting our fine establishment,” Carlton said in parting, wearing that wicked smile of his even now. He knew he’d gotten away with murder.
Literally.
—
Chapter Nine —
I had nowhere else to turn. The cops would say I had no leg to stand on, so I went to the only place I thought to go—back to Maureen Duggan’s office.
She listened. I mean to all of it, right down to the strange experiences and visions I had of her dead ex-husband. To my surprise, she didn’t toss me right out the door when I mentioned the word “spirit”. Instead, she seemed somewhat sympathetic.
“He told me the same thing,” she said when I finished sharing our experience with Carlton the night before. “I asked if Matt was in bad shape when he left and he said he wouldn’t know because he was in the bathroom.”
She stared blankly as she thought.
“Don’t get me wrong, Matt’s a mean, selfish bastard, but … we had history,” she shared. “Yeah, eventually, things got complicated, but the hardest part has been what all this had done to my kids. The divorce was hard enough, but, losing him?” She shook her head and didn’t elaborate.
I started to stay silent, but decided against it. “I know this probably isn’t any comfort because we don’t have anything we can take to the police, but … I don’t know … I just thought you should hear the truth.”
She nodded, still focusing her eyes on the surface of her desk.
“I hate that he’s gonna get away with this. It seems so—”
Her gaze locked with mine. “Get away with it?” she piped up. “What makes you think he’ll get away with it?”
My head tilted when she posed the strange question. “…Because we have no evidence.”
A ghost of a smile touched Maureen’s lips as she folded her arms across her chest. “Among the many things Matt was guilty of, one of them was cheating,” she shared. “As soon as I suspected something was going on between him and the babysitter, I had every room in that house outfitted with cameras. When I left, I didn’t bother taking them down, I simply stopped checking the feed.”
I scooted to the edge of my seat. “Do you have the recordings from that night?”
Her smile grew. “It saves to the cloud, so it’d be as simple as going to the date and time in question. If we’re able to see Carlton shoveling drinks toward Matt like you said, and if we’re able to see him coercing Matt to make that beer run…”
“We’ve got him.”
Maureen nodded. “Especially with Carlton having motive and a history of lashing out toward Matt with regards to that deal falling through. I’ve got the evidence proving that as well.”
“Evidence?”
She nodded again. “A big blow up at my son’s birthday party two weeks before Matt passed. Carlton brought his daughter and, as soon as those two came face-to-face, I knew it wasn’t going to end well. Silly me for thinking Matt could act like a grownup for one day,” she added. “But they went at it pretty hard, nearly fighting if it hadn’t been for my brother intervening. It was bad enough that I was surprised Carlton was invited and showed to Matt’s that night for the party. When we spoke about it at the funeral, he made it a point to mention how happy he was that they made amends before he passed.” She paused and shook her head as she thought about it. “I didn’t even think twice about it.”
“I don’t think anyone would have,” I assured her.
She smiled a bit. “Thank you, Violet. From the bottom of my heart. I’m sure if Matt was here, he’d want to tell you the same.”
Already, a huge burden had been lifted off me and, for the first time in days I didn’t feel Matt’s presence with me. I smiled back at Maureen. With the message delivered and in the hands of someone capable of bringing Carlton Shelter to justice, it seemed Matt was finally at rest.
… And so was I.
—
Epilog —
Carlton Shelter was behind bars. Right where he belonged.
The video Maureen presented made several things apparent. For starters, Carlton had only consumed one beer at the party that night and was not intoxicated. It also showed him dutifully fetching several bottles for Matthew Duggan. After around five, an already tipsy Duggan was actually seen trying to refuse another when Carlton brought him a sixth, but he was talked into it and consumed another three following the incident. Within ten minutes of downing his last bottle, Carlton then ushered Matt into the kitchen to point out that they were out of beer, and then handed Duggan the car keys from a rack beside the patio door.
From the footage, we were able to see that Carlton Shelter made a clear, sound decision to get Matthew Duggan intoxicated and then led him out the back door to his eventual death. And to make matters worse, once out of Carlton’s sight, another partygoer hopped into the vehicle with Duggan and this trip led to both men’s deaths.
The judge cared very little that Carlton’s expectation was that Duggan would land himself in legal trouble and not the morgue. At the end of the day, Carlton Shelter’s negligence, his anger toward the deceased, backfired on him in a major way.
“Come in,” I called out as I shut my laptop.
Josh entered and I wasn’t surprised to see a gaming headset around his neck. He and Cody barely gave that system a rest.
“What can I do for you?” I smiled. I’d done a lot of that lately. Especially since no spirits had stepped in to fill Matthew Duggan or Liz Hardy’s shoes just yet.
Fingers crossed they never would.
Josh
nudged my legs aside and sat on the edge of my bed, scrolling down his phone instead of speaking. I glanced down at the screen, but couldn’t make anything out.
“Okay, so … I heard back from Tribe.”
And here I was hoping we’d put that behind us. It’d been months since our visit with them.
“They figure out what’s wrong with me?”
Josh shook his head. “No, but … they did come with an interesting idea.”
I already didn’t like the sound of this. “Like?”
Turning his screen to face me, I read the email that’d come through.
“They’ve got tons of cases,” Josh interjected. “People with problems similar to yours. Some a bit on the … weirder side.”
I glanced up at him then, wondering how much weirder it could get.
“Anyway, I think we can help these people. Tribe gets these on an almost regular basis.”
“And most of them are from nut-jobs who sit around their houses wearing tinfoil hats,” I sighed. “Josh, I—”
“Just hear me out,” he reasoned. “Tribe will weed through the riffraff and only bring us the legitimate cases—poltergeists tormenting families, children,” he added, clearly trying to tug on my heart strings. “Possible alien abductions, hauntings.”
I threw my hands up. “Slow down. Aliens?” I peered up at him, trying not to let my true thoughts show through my expression. “This is a lot.”
He nodded, unable to disagree. “It is,” he admitted. “And I know a lot of it sounds like make believe, but … several months ago, would you have believed our story?”
I lowered my gaze and gave that some thought.
“These people need help,” he went on. “And, I don’t know, maybe the activity for you has slowed down for a reason. Maybe … it’s a sign that you’re supposed to be using your powers for the greater good.”
I snorted at his word usage. “Powers? What am I, a superhero now?”
To my surprise he shrugged. “Maybe not in the traditional sense, but I’m willing to bet that, once you’re able to help these people … you will be to them.”