by T. L. Ingham
Chapter Twenty
By the time Pia and my mother had arrived home, I had already called the police and they were greeted by dozens of squad cars, no doubt throwing them into a complete panic. I was sitting in the kitchen with Jase when they came flying in.
Gloria took one look at Alex sitting on the counter and said, "What the hell happened here? What's with the dead geezer in the living room and where's Cecilia? Did she try to kill Reid again?"
"Shut up, Gloria," was his only response. Alex was feeling a bit touchy about Cecilia's having moved on while he remained behind.
Jase quickly brought my mother and Pia up to date on what had happened, using the excuse I had given him for the destruction in the living room as my having utilizing everything in my power for self-preservation.
Naturally, Pia was quick to forgive me. I hoped she realized Cecilia was to blame for any broken objects. If not, I'd explain later.
"What I don't understand is, how did he think he could possibly get away with this?" my mother was asking Jase.
"That's a good question. The fact that he had gotten away with it once before, naturally made him more fearless. I'm sure he thought he was invincible. But we were already on to him. The car accident had never set well with us in the first place. And the fact that he'd snuck out of the hospital in the middle of the night already had us investigating. But as he was using an alias, we kept hitting dead-ends. Then Reid unknowingly gave us the connection that we needed.
"This Alex McDaniel guy she found in her research, (my mother kept her tongue, thankfully, though she did blanch a little at the mention of the name), was a high-priced gigolo that traveled in the same circles Howard did, though for different reasons, obviously."
"Obviously," Gloria snorted, though of course Jase didn’t hear her.
"Alex had been conducting illicit affairs with several of the society ladies and Howard's wife was one of them. It was Howard's own sense of invincibility that led him to use that name. We finally had everything we needed to connect Howard to the car accident, as well as the murder of Mike Holbeck to prevent him from finding the bodies Howard knew were hidden here. It's only a matter of time before forensics gives us the evidence we need to prove the two skeletons belong to Alex McDaniel and Cecilia Everhart."
So that was her name. It was pretty. I wished I could tell her that.
"We've already exhumed the remains of the body we believe to be Alyssa Holbeck Martin from her family plot. Again, we only have to wait on the forensics results. Given that the murderer is now dead, I guess there isn't any rush."
"Like hell there ain't!" Alex muttered. "I waited a lifetime for this!"
"A deathtime, sweetie," Gloria told him. "You've waited a deathtime. Besides, how does it affect you? I mean, Howard killed Alyssa, not you."
"How did it affect me? I loved Alyssa!" Alex protested.
"Oh, please! You aren't capable of loving anyone but yourself, dead or alive!"
As I listened to them argue back and forth, I realized there wasn't a single person involved in this thing that was innocent. Every one of them was up to some kind of mischief or other. Sleeping around, murdering one another, hiding bodies, blackmailing. I decided I didn't feel sorry for a single one of them.
"Reid?" Jase snapped his fingers in front of my face. "Are you hearing me? If you're not up to our date tomorrow night, I'll certainly understand."
"Uh-uh! No way are you getting out of this one buster! For once I am not lying in a hospital room! We are having a real date, at a real restaurant, and then you are taking me to a real movie!"
"Whatever you say, Nancy!" he grinned at me.
"Watson," I corrected, though it became a chorus as Pia chimed in with me.
"Watson it is," he complied. "Then I guess I'd better go and let you get some beauty sleep." The rest of the emergency workers had already left, taking Howard's body with them, and Jase was the last remaining. As much as I may have wanted to spend some time alone with him, I was too exhausted, physically and emotionally, to do anything other than crawl into my bed and sleep for the next eight to ten hours.
I walked Jase to the door where we shared a few kisses and then I let him out.
As I turned around I caught a glance of movement out of the corner of my eye. There was something moving in the living room. I walked to the doorway and peered in, staring hard. And there it was again. Nothing more than a slight shadow, shimmering somewhere near the chair.
"Not now, Howard," I said turning off the light and plunging the room into darkness. And then, just for good measure, I slid the pocket doors closed. I'd deal with that tomorrow. More than likely I wouldn't have to deal with it for at least a week since it takes awhile for ghosts to 'get to sticking' as Raphael likes to say.
I was headed back to the kitchen when the doorbell rang followed by a resounding rap.
Wondering what Jase might have forgotten, I turned back calling out to Pia, "I got it!"
There on the doorstep stood one of the oddest women I'd ever laid eyes on. Somewhere in her mid-to-upper fifties, she was swathed from head to toe in layers upon layers of fabric. She wore a floor length quilted skirt made up of patches of fabric in bright and busy patterns. A peasant blouse hung loose over that, with several scarves draped around her neck, twisted together to create a very elaborate and very heavy necklace of sorts. Her make-up- bright green eye-shadow from lid to brow, heavy black eyeliner and mascara, and brilliant orange lipstick- was nearly as shocking as her outfit. Her hair, dyed a bright orange (to match her lips one might suppose), was a mass of frizzy curls that stuck nearly straight out from her head a la Bozo the Clown, even jutting through the giant gold hoop earrings she wore. In short, she looked like she was shy one crystal ball to tell me my Gypsy fortune.
"Can I help you?"
Her eyes narrowed at me. They were strangely familiar, though I couldn't quite figure out why. "Is Priscilla home?" she asked.
"I'm sorry, you must have the wrong house, there's no Priscilla here."
She laughed, a trilling sound. "It's been awhile, but I'm quite certain that I have the correct house!"
For the first time I noticed her English accent and I began to become somewhat suspicious. "Who are you?"
At that point Pia joined me at the doorway. "Frances! Whatever are you doing here?"
The woman smiled a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Now, is that anyway to greet your sister, Priscilla?"