Grave Mistake (Codex Blair Book 1)

by Izzy Shows

  I don’t believe in ghosts. I believe in things I can see, hear, experience. Not even religious or superstitious. That didn’t mean I wouldn’t help her, though. The police would probably turn her away if she came to them with a story like that, but it was most likely that her husband had just shacked up with some new younger model and she didn’t want to come to terms with that. Denial will do crazy things to even the sanest person. I could probably track him down, take some pictures that with luck wouldn’t bother her too much, and collect my reward.

  “Have you filed a missing person’s report?” Ooh, look how professional I can be. Dot all my i’s, cross all my t’s.

  “No…” she mumbled.

  I didn’t say anything, just let the silence stretch out between us. Awkward silences are great motivators to keep a person talking. “If I file a missing person’s report, his family is going to know. They don’t like me, and they’re going to say he’s left me, and I just…I just need to know everything first. Prepare myself.”

  Ah, I thought, had to keep it under wraps then.

  “OK, Mary. I’ll take the case.”

  “You will?” Her eyes lit up, a faint light surrounded by so many wrinkles. It looked like it had been a while since that had happened.

  “I will. I understand, you don’t want to attract much attention to your situation, which explains why you came to me instead of someone with an actual office. So, let’s get to the stuff that matters. My fee is £50 an hour, plus expenses, and I’m going to need some information about your husband. Somewhere for me to start. OK?” I looked at the point between her eyes, to give the impression of eye contact without making it. Something…odd had happened the last time I’d stared into a person’s eyes.

  For a moment, she had a vacant look on her face, and I watched as the realisation sunk in that someone believed her, was going to help her. I smiled, trying to be gentle.

  “Yes, OK, that’s fine.” She agreed readily, bobbing her head up and down a few times more than was necessary.

  “When did you see him last?” I asked.

  “Oh, um. About two days ago, on Tuesday. I know that must sound odd, but he keeps long hours. Sometimes he doesn’t come home until I’ve already gone to bed, and back to work before morning. He’s a stock trader, they work him near to death, but he’s always loved it. Sometimes he even sleeps at work.” She inhaled deeply and let out the breath slowly. “Things have been different lately. A new normal, I guess. It’s been going on for a few weeks now. He’s rather volatile, indifferent, distant…he doesn’t talk to me at all. It’s as if I’m not there. He’ll do the dishes, and I’ll offer to dry and he just…he doesn’t respond at all.”

  I nodded, trying not to get drawn in by the forlorn look on her face. Her watery eyes made me uncomfortable, an itch building within me to squirm in my seat or look away from her. I couldn’t do that, though, wouldn’t go down well. I couldn’t risk shutting her up.

  “OK. Sounds like things are happening at work. Your husband wouldn’t be the first to take it out on his wife when he’s stressed," I offered her reassurance while writing her answers down quickly to keep up.

  “Well of course I thought of that. I called his secretary to see if something was going on there, but she told me he’s not quite the same at work either. Comes in late, leaves early, barely paying attention at meetings and what not. She’s been covering for him, but she’s worried it won’t hold up for much longer.” Mary began to fiddle with a strand of her hair. “So, it’s not that. That’s why I think he’s cheating. If he’s gone before I wake up, and not getting in to the office till late, what else could it be?” She shrugged her shoulders, deflating like a balloon.

  I pursed my lips. “OK, alright, you’ve got a pretty strong foundation there.” I wasn’t going to touch the ghost bit with a ten-foot barge pole if I could help it. “Where does he go to relax? Favourite bars, restaurants, that kind of thing.”

  “Well, like I said, he basically lives at the office. We haven’t even gone out for dinner in months," She said.

  Sharp stroke of the pen as I crossed that option off the notebook. “OK. Hobbies?”

  “I don’t. No? I don’t think he has any, not anymore. He used to be a foodie.” She smiled, her eyes drifting away for a moment as if she were recalling a fond memory.

  Yet another strike out. I crossed that option off the list as well.

  “Mhm. So, friends then? Co-workers he’s close to? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of anyone working a corporate job that didn’t get a beer with their co-workers," I pushed, trying not to give in to my frustration and snap at her. She wasn’t giving me a lot to work with.

  Mary looked down at her lap for a moment, biting her lip. “I don’t think I realised how much I don’t know him anymore," she whispered.

  I sighed, closing my eyes briefly to collect myself. “That’s…OK," I said, trying to give her a comforting smile—it came out more as a grimace. “What’s his office address then?”

  She blinked at me for a moment, the unspoken words stretched between us.

  His secretary will know more than you. I hated the thought as soon as it popped into my mind, but it was hard to argue with.

  Without speaking, she pulled a business card and slid it across the table to me. I pocketed it, flipped the notebook shut and put it in my bag. “I’ll let you know what I find,” I informed her as I stood up.

  “Oh. OK. That’s it then?” She sounded surprised.

  “Yeah, that’s it. You give me details, I go hunting. I find details, you pay me. Simple, hard to fuck up.” I winced internally at the harsh tone of my voice.

  I pressed my lips together and nodded once, then walked away from her.

  I resisted the urge to shake the tension out of my shoulders.

  I hate dealing with people.

  Disappeared spouse with no real indication as to where he had gone, and he’d been acting like a tool for the few weeks before he’d disappeared. That didn’t tell me a whole lot. I suppose that’s why she’d hired me, though, and hadn’t balked at the idea of paying an amateur a good amount of money to do this.

  I needed to pull an ace out of my sleeve this time, or else I would be looking for new housing—and I was almost out of desperate landlords to lease from. The likelihood of finding another gig, or another couple of gigs, that would pay my rent by the end of the weekend were close to zero.

  I had four days to pull this off. At least I didn’t have any side gigs to balance.

  4

  I DIDN’T REACH THE DOOR BEFORE my pocket vibrated again.

  What the fuck? Two calls? I groaned at the thought. Highly unlikely.

  I was not a popular person. Maybe one call a week would be considered the norm for me, but two calls in a day was just weird. I have one or two not-quite-close friends that I see every now and then, socialising is not my strong suit. Most of the time when my phone rings, it’s a job. There was no way I was getting two job offers right after my landlady threatened to evict me. My luck was nowhere near that good.

  I lifted the phone to my ear, brushing my hair out of the way. “Sheach.”

  “Hey, have you got a minute? It’s Finn.” He sounded tired, a little run down—I could relate—but not anxious or concerned. Likely it was not that big a deal, and I deliberated telling him that I had things to do. I didn’t have a lot of time to waste, but Finn was a good guy. One of the aforementioned ‘friends,’ and I didn’t want to push him away just yet. I had a habit of phasing out any ‘sort of close’ friend after time passed and the ‘close friend’ stage approached. It was an inevitable process, like the earth circling the sun.

  I didn’t want to get there quite yet, though. Finn was fun to hang out with.

  “Yeah, alright. Just a minute, though, I’ve got a case to work on. What’s up?” I asked.

  “Can we meet up?”

  I scowled, having hoped it would be an over the phone conversation.

  “Sure.” I forced a cheer
ful tone into my voice. “I’m at the cafe right now.”

  “Stop pretending you aren’t happy to see me, Sheach. I’ll be there in five,” he teased, hanging up.

  I grinned without thinking about it—Finn had learned my moods quickly, and unlike most people didn’t give me any grief about wanting to end phone calls without a ‘goodbye.’ I just hated staying on the line for something as simple as a goodbye, but everyone else finds it necessary. It’s always felt awkward to me. Finn didn’t agree with me, but he understood it and I appreciated the effort.

  I turned around and went back to order another drink, averting my gaze from the raised eyebrow the barista directed at me. Walking out and back in probably didn’t happen too often. Maybe if I had any social skills I would have made a joke about it to ease the tension. Talking to people was exhausting, though. I tried to think of a quip to fill the silence, but my mind gave me nothing but static and the moment passed.

  When I got my coffee, I headed back to the table I’d sat at with Mary to wait for Finn. I didn’t expect him to take very long, he was reliable when it came to estimated arrival times. Not the type of person to tell you ‘five minutes’ when they really mean ‘half an hour’.

  I took a sip and grimaced at the taste. Black coffee is not my favourite, but I didn’t exactly know what to put in it or what to order to make it taste good, and I didn’t want to spend more time than was necessary talking to a stranger to get something else. So, I just drank the bitter black coffee and waited for the caffeine buzz.

  Finn arrived before the buzz did. The fading summer had tanned his golden-brown skin into a deeper, russet hue—bringing out the reddish undertones. I smiled automatically at the sight of him, though he did not return the expression. He took the seat across from me, and promptly folded in on the table. I reached out to pat his shaved head in what I hoped was a comforting gesture.

  “Bad day?” I asked, not even trying to keep the humour from my voice.

  “I thought I’d seen it all with the constables…I thought the other sergeants knew what they were doing! Was I that stupid as a sergeant?” He groaned the words out onto the table without looking up at me, and I was lucky to catch the gist of it. Finn had just been promoted to Detective Inspector, and as such now had to oversee sergeants as well as the constables he’d previously been charged with. Apparently, it was not going well.

  “I don’t know.” I hadn’t known Finn when he’d started out on the police force, so I assumed the question was a rhetorical one. “I assume you were probably more stupid than them, though.” I shrugged my shoulders.

  He lifted his head and glared up at me, amber eyes looking like death. “That was very rude.” But he didn’t sound upset, so I assumed I hadn’t made a faux pas. It was always hard to tell, but thankfully Finn could be trusted to tell me when I was being an arse. Not everyone would do that for you, so once you find that kind of person…best to keep them around.

  I shrugged, rolling my eyes. “So, what’s bad about them, then?” I asked, legitimately confused. I didn’t know the first thing about the inner workings of the police force, beyond what information I’d gleaned from Finn in passing. I didn’t even have the benefit of pulling silly stereotypes from watching crime shows. “Too much doughnut snacking?” I asked, taking a shot in the dark.

  “You’ve been watching too much American telly," he said with a snort.

  Yes! I’d got it right, then.

  “Have not," I quipped, sticking my tongue out at him. “You still haven’t told me what makes them bad enough for you to sulk about here.”

  “They don’t do anything, Blair," he growled, rubbing his palms against his face. “They don’t fill out reports, or if they do it’s impossible to read or barely has anything in it, and they never seem to know what any of their constables are doing.”

  “Well I’m sure you’ll get them turned around and in good working condition in no time.” I winked at him. He’d bragged once before about the magnificent job he’d done with the constables when he’d first been a sergeant, so it wasn’t entirely out of line.

  “I don’t want to!” he whined. “I just want to go back to my normal job of yelling at people for not giving me all the facts. Is that too much to ask?”

  I debated telling him how much of a moaning baby he sounded.

  “Boohoo. You poor thing, having a job you like and getting promoted at it to boot. Excuse me while I don’t comfort you.” I rolled my eyes and stuck out my tongue.

  “You’re really mean, has anyone ever told you that?” he asked, sitting up a bit more and propping his head on a hand.

  “Yes. You have. Loads of times.” I smiled at him, sugary sweet and not at all matching the glint in my eyes.

  “So, what are you up to? You said you’ve got a case," he asked, sighing as he sat back in his seat.

  “Yeah, some girl thinks her husband’s cheating on her—with a ghost.” I punctuated the sentence with a roll of my eyes.

  I waited for him to tell me to stop doing that or my eyes would fall out of my head, as he’d said so many other times. But Finn was uncharacteristically quiet for a moment, his expression sober.

  “What is it, Finn?” My brow furrowed and I frowned. “Come on, it’s hilarious. She’s been reading too much paranormal romance and it’s bleeding into her life. I’m sure he’s having an affair, but not with a ghost.”

  “If you’d said that to me yesterday…” His voice trailed off and he sighed. “It’s just not the craziest thing I’ve heard. That’s all.”

  “Oh, you’ve got to tell me what you heard that’s so crazy you’re believing in ghosts now," I scoffed, half-hearted though it was. He was starting to worry me. Maybe if he’d been the type to believe in ghosts before then it wouldn’t have been such a big deal, just something to tease him about. But Finn had always been in the staunchly pro-science, believe in what you see camp.

  He avoided my eyes. “I can’t really talk about it.”

  “Finn.” My eyes narrowed and my tone changed to annoyed. “When have I ever withheld gossip?”

  “It’s not gossip, Blair. I just can’t talk about it.” His expression looked pained.

  I sighed and looked out the window for a moment, throwing up a hand dismissively before chugging the rest of the unpleasant coffee. The grimace it left on my lips fit the new mood perfectly. I didn’t really have a right to be annoyed, we weren’t childhood friends who’d told each other everything since we were little kids.

  Finn and I had known each other for a few months, long enough for him to know I couldn’t hold a stable job and had a bad habit of moving from one flat to another. Long enough for me to know that he moved through girlfriends and boyfriends just as quickly, and that he loved his job more than anyone or anything else in the world, certainly more than any of the people he’d dated. These may not seem like critical things to know about one another, but they were the most important things in either of our lives—stark contrast of loser and dedicated copper—and it took being around a person and paying attention on more than a surface level to discover them.

  I may not have known Finn since childhood, but he wasn’t a stranger. We were friends. He’d never refused to tell me something before, which was why it was so surprising that he had done so now.

  “Don’t pout.” His tone sounded like a half-hearted attempt at teasing, and I glared at him for it. “Come on. Look, I’ll tell you soon, OK? I promise.”

  “Ugh. Fine.” I sat up a little straighter though, pacified for the moment. “So, how’s Shannon?”

  He frowned. “Shannon?”

  “Yeah, Shannon. Your girlfriend. Oh, sorry, Sarah?” Now it was my turn to frown. Had I got the name wrong? I could have sworn the current girlfriend was Shannon. Something with an ’S’ at least.

  “Oh." He chuckled. “No, sorry, it’s Vicky.”

  “Already?” I arched an eyebrow and suppressed a giggle. Like I said, the guy changes partners like everyone else changes clothes. “Aren�
��t you a little old for this kind of behaviour?” I teased him, grinning.

  Finn wasn’t old, not really. He was in his thirties, about a decade older than me. Sometimes he seemed older, if you caught a look at him when he was still or thought no one was looking—weary eyes from seeing one too many violent crimes, his mouth set in a firm line that brooked no argument.

  “Not my fault you’re not on the web. You would have known last week.” He pointed that out with a smirk. “And, hey, ouch! I can run circles around you, little girl," He chuckled, pressing a hand to his chest as if I’d wounded him.

  He was right though. Finn kept himself in good shape, if he wasn’t working than he was usually at the gym. Unlike most other officers, he refused to grow complacent, having had to chase one too many criminals down a crowded street.

  “Alright, so since I’m not plugged in, who’s Vicky? What’s she like? Am I going to meet her before she gets traded in?” I propped my elbows on the table and cradled my chin in my hands.

  He rolled his eyes. “Vicky is a nurse. She’s very nice…not the brightest.” He shrugged. “And, I don’t know, I’m starting to feel like I should only introduce you to the people who are going to make it past two weeks.”

  I froze, not even able to blink, my heart failing to beat for a moment before it shuddered out an irregular rhythm to catch back up. I tried not to let it show on my face, flicking my eyes away to a corner of the room while I took in a few long breaths to bring my heart back under control. That was the kind of thing you said about a friend you cared about, a friend who mattered. I was not that friend, to anyone. I didn’t matter. “So, what, I’m your mum now?” I tried to make a joke to distract from my momentary panic.

  “More like a sister.” He grinned, seemingly oblivious to my prior freak out. “No, it’s just that if I keep running them all past you, and you keep calling them the wrong names…It’s going to start hurting some feelings.”

  Now it was my turn to put a hand to my chest in mock hurt. “Finnegan O’Malley. Do you mean to say I haven’t hurt anyone’s feelings?”