Gwen nodded eagerly. “Consider it done!”
“Great. Thanks, you guys.” I paused and glanced up at the clock. “I’ve got to hold down things here at the store, and then Lucas is coming in sometime this afternoon. Think we can all have dinner together?”
Flapjack tilted his head. “Will there be anything for us? Say, a can of long-awaited tuna?”
I sighed. “Yes. Though, to be clear, I think long-awaited is a bit of a stretch. It’s been less than twenty-four hours.”
“Time moves differently for ghosts, Scar.”
“Uh huh.” I grinned, shaking my head. I missed the days when I could send him on his way with a prodding of my toes. “I’ll sweeten the pot and give you two if you come home with info from the police station.”
That got him going. He perked, jumped down from the work table, and scurried through the nearest wall with almost a trot in his fluffy-footed steps.
“We’ll be on our way, as well,” Hayward announced before valiantly offering Gwen his crooked arm.
Gwen slid her hand through the loop and they exchanged a sweet smile. “You can count on us, Scarlet!”
I thanked them and sent them off. As they vanished through the wall, Gwen’s voice echoed back. “This is so exciting!”
I sighed, wishing I had an ounce of her enthusiasm. All I was left with was a twisted knot of guilt and dread. Though, it did help knowing I had the three ghosts helping me.
There was half an hour until opening and everything was in order for the day. Now, all I could do was wait and do my best not to freak out.
* * *
By three-thirty, I was walking my fourth customer of the day to the door and contemplating closing down for the day. In another few weeks, the shop would be packed full of tourists and out-of-towners, and I’d be longing for the quiet afternoons where sneaking out early was even an option.
I waved to Mr. Welsch as he scurried away, one hand wrapped around a ticket-out-of-the-doghouse-with-Mrs.-Welsch bouquet straight from the cooler. So far, the ghosts hadn’t circled back to provide an update. Technically, we’d made plans to wait until dinner, but with the ghosts, things rarely went according to plan, and I’d expected to hear from at least one of them by now.
I tried not to read too much into their absence and went back to the register. With the punch of a few keys, the drawer popped open and I started counting the till. The bell on the door rang and I glanced up, my usual greeting catching on the tip of tongue as Lucas strode through the door.
Grinning, I popped my hip and braced my fist against it. “Good afternoon, sir. How’s the day treating you?”
Lucas returned my smile as he sauntered closer. He slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans and shrugged. “Can’t complain. Had a bit of a drive, but the view was worth it,” he replied, giving me a meaningful look.
Little butterflies swirled through my stomach. “Tell me, are you looking for something specific today?”
His smile widened. “I’ve kind of got a thing for tall redheads.”
I laughed, slipping out of my impromptu character. “Guess you’re in luck.”
“I’d say.” He leaned across the counter and kissed me firmly. “I missed you,” he said, one hand still on the side of my face.
Any lingering apprehension about our conversation the night before faded to the background and I kissed him. “I missed you, too.”
“How’s business? It seems a little quiet around town.”
I nodded and went back to counting the till. “After this weekend, things will pick up. Did you notice all the hanging baskets?”
“I did. Nice work.”
I smiled. “Thanks!”
He glanced around the shop. “Are we … alone?”
“For now,” I replied. “We’re having dinner with the posse.”
“Aha.”
I filled him in on the plan as I went through the closing procedures. I scanned both sides of the street before flipping the Open sign around to Closed and pulled the chain on the neon sign in the window. Before I locked up, Lucas went back out to his SUV to grab the large duffel bag he usually traveled with. Sure, he could afford a proper suitcase, but he was ex-military and some habits died hard. He was insistent that the duffel could outperform any luggage on the market.
We’d agreed to disagree on the subject.
I locked the shop up for the night, turned off the lights, and led the way upstairs to my apartment. Lucas stashed his bag in the bedroom and then came back out to the living room, where I was firing up a second pot of gourmet coffee.
“You read my mind,” he said, gesturing at the chrome machine. “How are you liking it? Is your mind blown? Life forever changed?” he teased, a playful spark in his green eyes.
I laughed. “I don’t know if I’d go that far, but yes, it does make things easier in the morning. Thank you.”
He smiled. I’d never had someone dote on me with gifts and flowers before, always having preferred to buy things for myself, but with Lucas, it was clearly the best way he knew how to show me how much he cared, so I let him spoil me. Coming from a wealthy family, I’d grown up without needing or wanting anything. Even as an adult, I’d lived an insulted life. I’d insisted on working my way from place to place while I’d traveled abroad, but I always knew there was a safety net in case things unraveled.
Even Lily Pond was a dream financed in large part thanks to my family. My grandmother left me a sum of money when she passed on, and I’d used it all to lease the retail space and attached apartment. I’d run out of inheritance money some time ago, but without it, the flower shop would have stayed a dream in my head rather than the brick-and-mortar walls around me.
When it came to Lucas, I wanted everything to be on even footing. We equally split bills and treated each other, but when it boiled down to it, he had more money than I did. At least, without my parents’ backing. He’d spent years running his own security firm and had been contracted by a television network to oversee the security needs of a popular home renovation reality show Mints on the Pillows. Things soured, and he’d severed ties with the network after his time in New Orleans and dissolved his company after getting offered a job with the firm in Seattle. It wasn’t TV money, but he was still making a good salary, and they’d even paid all his relocation expenses and offered a large signing bonus. I wasn’t sure of the exact dollar amounts, but it was enough that he’d bought a new SUV, a few new suits for client meetings, and we’d enjoyed a very fancy dinner at one of Seattle’s finest restaurants not too long after he signed his contract.
“I have to say, driving into town today, I was scanning every face, waiting for someone to sprout fangs or wings.” He shook his head. “I still haven’t quite wrapped my head around everything. I keep thinking about the implications it has for my line of work. I mean, how many strange occurrences and unexplainable things could be traced back to … magic?”
“They do a pretty good job of policing their own,” I told him, moving to the cupboard to pull down two mugs. “They have their own CIA and police and government. It’s all very organized.”
Somehow, I didn’t think that helped relieve Lucas’s questions. Judging by the look on his face, it only added to them.
I laughed softly and handed him the first cup of coffee. “You look like you need this one more than I do.”
He took it, still dumbfounded. “Thanks.”
I poured the second cup and replaced the carafe in the machine. “Let’s sit. The ghosts will be here any minute.”
“I wish I could hear them for myself,” Lucas said as we settled onto the couch. He draped his free arm over my shoulder and I snuggled into his side. For a tiny moment, everything was right with the world. There was no threat of demon invasion, lost ghosts, or magic.
Naturally, the moment lasted all of three seconds.
Before I could get too comfortable, the trio arrived, seemingly in a synchronized entrance, floating through the door in a single-file line.
“Oh, goody, boyfriend’s here,” Flapjack quipped, stalking into the room. “Or, should I call him your scoundrel?”
I narrowed my eyes.
Lucas tensed, sitting a little straighter. “They here?”
“Yes,” I replied, leaning forward to place my coffee mug on the table. “All right. Let’s get this thing started.”
“You want to start with the good news or the bad news?” Flapjack asked.
I looked at Lucas and sighed. “Bad news.”
Chapter 11
“The bad news is that the leads are going cold and Chief Lincoln’s the only one really trying to chase this thing down,” Flapjack said.
I frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense. It’s not even the BHPD’s case.”
“The reason we took so long is because we all went to the Pine Shoals station to compare notes. They’ve moved on to chasing down a vandal who’s sprayed half the town with these really tacky spray paint murals in the middle of the night,” Flapjack continued.
“And that’s more important than a woman strangled to death in her own home?” I asked, my eyebrows peaked.
“That’s why Chief Lincoln is so cranky,” Flapjack said. “He came into the Pine Shoals station while we were there and tore their lead deputy a new one. Told him if he was too lazy to track down a killer, he didn’t deserve his badge.”
I blinked. “Chief Lincoln said that?”
Flapjack smiled. “It was awesome!”
It was hard to picture Chief Lincoln coming unglued. He was young for a police chief, but he was mature beyond his years and didn’t have a temper as far as I knew.
“How did it end?” I asked.
“He stormed out and said he’d do the canvassing himself,” Flapjack said. “So, we followed along.”
It explained why the trio hadn’t circled back to the flower shop.
“They followed Chief Lincoln while he interviewed neighbors,” I quickly explained to Lucas.
“And that’s bad news?” he asked.
Frowning, I shifted my gaze back to Flapjack. “Good point. You said this is the bad news?”
“The bad news is we followed him around while he talked to a dozen people and came up with nothing,” Flapjack clarified.
“Oh.” I deflated. “He didn’t find anything.”
“Got it.” Lucas sipped his beer. “So, the neighbor you talked to thinks it was the ex-husband? What about him? What’s he say about it?”
“Russ Hutchins,” Flapjack said. “Guess Sabrina kept his last name. Anyway, he has an alibi and his daughter, Miranda, backs it up. She was staying with him for the weekend and kept the movie ticket stub from their night out. They were in the theater at the time of the attack.”
I relayed the info to Lucas. The line between his brows deepened.
“Could he have hired it out?” he asked.
“It’s possible,” I answered, “but I’m not sure how they’d find out if they don’t have enough to get a warrant or bring him in for a formal interview at the station. And if the Pine Shoals PD is distracted by this spray-paint vandal, they might not be digging too deeply.”
I exhaled and leaned back in my chair. “Gwen, Hayward, what about you? Did you get anything from the local ghosts?”
“Oddly, the place is a ghost-ghost town. We couldn’t find any!” Gwen said.
“No ghosts?” I repeated. “In the whole town?”
I mentally added it to a list of potential vacation spots.
“Do they have any bed-and-breakfasts?” Lucas whispered out of the corner of his mouth, apparently on the same wavelength I was.
All three ghosts frowned at him.
I laughed. “You’re not scoring any points here, babe.”
He shrugged and went back to drinking.
“So, no ghosts, no leads, and the ex-husband is off the hook.” I tapped my nails against the table, my mind whirling. “Remind me what the good news was in all that?”
“The good news is that Sturgeon did a little digging for us and found something in ex-hubby’s trash,” Flapjack said.
“Where is Sturgeon?” I asked, glancing around, halfway expecting him to be lurking in a corner somewhere. He was deadly silent—even for a ghost.
“He had to go. Poker night,” Flapjack explained. “But he left it out on the porch. He couldn’t bring it in through the wall.”
I straightened. “He brought it here?”
“What else were we supposed to do with it?” Flapjack asked. “Leave it there?”
I sighed and pushed up from the table. “Yes! The police can’t use it as evidence if it’s been tampered with.”
“Scar, what are we talking about?” Lucas asked, twisting in his chair as I went to the door.
I opened it, found a small phone on the welcome mat, and frowned. “This.”
Lucas was at my side in ten seconds, staring down at the phone. “Looks like a burner phone.”
“Let me get some gloves,” I said, hurrying to the kitchen. I pulled a pair of hot pink rubber gloves out from under the sink. They went to the elbow and were lined with a soft floral print. I handed them to Lucas and he laughed. “Not really my style, but all right.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’ll know what to do to download the information.”
He took a glove and stuffed his right hand into it, cringing at the tight fit.
Flapjack cackled as Lucas donned the hot pink gloves. “Maybe we could find him an apron and a little hat, too!”
Hayward’s mustache twitched as he struggled to contain a laugh.
I shot them both a warning look.
Lucas plucked the phone from the mat with his gloved hand and flipped it open. Miraculously, there was some juice left in the battery and the tiny screen lit up. “No contacts,” he said, tapping the silver buttons. “No nothing, really. A few outbound calls, all to the same number. No inbound calls. He might have had the number jammed so it would come up as unlisted. Scarlet, can you get me a pad of paper?”
I went back to the kitchen, tossed the spare glove into the sink, and then dug a small pad and a pen from the catch-all drawer under the microwave.
Lucas jotted down the phone number along with the dates and times of the calls. When he laid the pen down, he did one more scan through the phone, and then snapped it closed. “That’s everything.”
“Is Sturgeon coming back to collect it?” I asked Flapjack. “After poker?”
“Poker?” Lucas repeated. “I didn’t know ghosts could play poker. Maybe this whole death thing won’t be so bad after all.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Why would he come back for the phone?” Flapjack asked.
“It needs to go back in the trash, and I’m certainly not driving all the way to Pine Shoals to go reverse dumpster diving in the middle of the night.”
Lucas looked to me and wiggled the phone.
“Put it back on the mat,” I directed.
Flapjack heaved a long-suffering sigh. “I’ll go tell Sturgeon to take it back. He’s not going to be happy about it though.”
“All right, so to make sure I’m following,” Lucas said, coming back to the table after replacing the phone and removing the glove, “the ex-husband has an alibi, the daughter, but he’s also got a mysterious burner phone in his trash?”
“Yes,” Flapjack and I said at the same time.
“It had to have been charged up recently,” Lucas said. “There was over half the battery left, but the last call was made two weeks ago. If he used it to contact some hit man, why would he keep it around all this time?”
“I don’t know. Could he have scrubbed other data off it?”
“It’s possible. I know a guy who could try to hack it, but he’s all the way in Chicago. It would take a couple days to get the phone to him, even if we overnighted it.”
“Right.” I sighed and looked down at the pad where Lucas had written the number. “Should we call it? See if anyone answers?”
“I have a
better way,” Lucas said.
Without further explanation, he ducked into the bedroom and came back with his laptop. “I have a program that can do a reverse lookup.”
“Oh, right. I forgot, I’m dating a part-time super spy.”
Lucas chuckled and opened the computer. “I must have left my cape in my other duffel bag.”
“It’s for the best,” I teased. “It would only slow us down.”
Flapjack groaned. “You two are insufferable.”
Hayward cleared his throat. “Perhaps I’m being daft,” he began. Flapjack opened his mouth but I silenced him with a look before he could pounce on Hayward. “But I’m not sure I understand why this phone is so strange. Isn’t it possible he simply got a new one and threw the old one away?”
“It’s a burner phone,” I explained, “which means it’s not attached to some kind of phone carrier and is basically untraceable. That on its own wouldn’t necessarily mean anything, but the fact that it’s clearly in working order but was thrown in the trash seems a little strange, as though the phone served its purpose and was now worthless.”
“Why would the ex-husband want to kill Sabrina?” Gwen asked.
“When Flapjack and I spoke with Sabrina’s neighbor, he told us the exes were locked in a pretty nasty legal battle. He wanted to move out of state for an important job offer and Sabrina wasn’t allowing him to change their custody agreement. Now, with Sabrina dead, he gets full custody and can do whatever he wants.”
“Looks like he’d be saving a bundle, too,” Lucas added, his fingers flying over his keyboard. “I just pulled up their divorce settlement. Sabrina was getting eight grand a month from Russ.”
“Eight grand?!”
Lucas nodded. “They separated three years ago. But the divorce was only finalized eighteen months ago. It took over a year to hammer out the deal. The eight thousand dollars is a combination of alimony and child support, but even once their daughter turns eighteen, Russ will still fork out over four thousand a month to his ex for another seven years.”
I shook my head, trying to add up the total sum. “Wow. She must have had a killer lawyer.”
Big Ghosts Don’t Cry Page 9