The Ex Who Hid a Deadly Past

by Sally Berneathy

  The Ex Who Hid a Deadly Past

  Copyright ©2020 Sally Berneathy.

  at Smashwords

  Smashwords Edition

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  http://www.sallyberneathy.com

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of pure fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Original cover art by Cheryl Welch, http://www.mywelchdesign.com/

  Chapter One

  Home.

  Usually Amanda liked that word, liked arriving home after she’d been away.

  Tonight? Not so much.

  Tonight she and Jake had flown from the sand and sun of Padre Island back to the chill of Dallas in late October—back to real life.

  Jake turned into the parking lot of Amanda’s Motorcycles and More. She looked across the car at his profile...his strong nose, stubborn chin, sensual lips. His focus remained straight ahead, but he reached across the seat and took her hand. That was quite a concession for a devout cop—driving with one hand even if it was on private property.

  He parked close to the stairs to her apartment and turned to her.

  The moon hadn’t risen yet. Clouds hid most of the faint stars. Nevertheless, Jake’s dark eyes shone. “We need to do this again.”

  Amanda nodded. “Agree.” Spending time with Jake had been even more wonderful than she’d imagined. Yes, she wanted to do it again.

  The problem was how to get away from her jealous ex-husband’s ghost.

  Could she impose on Teresa to ghost-sit him again? Teresa was her friend, but taking care of Charley was quite an imposition.

  Jake got out and went around to the trunk to get her luggage.

  Amanda opened her door, slid out, and shivered. The air was chilly, a big difference from the warm gulf breezes, but her shiver was only partially due to the temperature. She felt a sensation of someone watching, someone exuding anger so raw it was almost palpable.

  Was Charley’s ghost back already? He was doubtless angry with her for sticking him with Teresa while she vacationed with Jake.

  She looked around the parking lot, out to the street.

  No translucent form skulking behind a tree.

  Not that Charley would skulk. He’d be in her face—angry, shouting, ranting.

  Teresa had promised to keep him until Monday morning which was still a few hours away.

  Jake came around with her suitcase.

  Amanda shook off her paranoia and returned Jake’s smile.

  Together they ascended the steps.

  Halfway up Jake glanced over his shoulder and frowned.

  Did he feel it too? Maybe she wasn’t being paranoid. Maybe Charley really was there—fuming at seeing her with Jake, waiting to make a dramatic entrance.

  “Everything okay?” she asked.

  Jake rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “Yeah, sure. After being a cop for so many years, I’m always suspicious. Always feel like somebody’s watching.”

  He felt it too.

  Must be Charley.

  They continued to her front door. Jake set her suitcase on the landing and wrapped his arms around her. For a long moment he gazed into her eyes then slowly lowered his lips to hers.

  Amanda leaned against him, held him tightly, lost herself in the kiss, in the feel of Jake’s arms around her.

  One last moment of ecstasy.

  His lips lifted from hers, dropping mini-kisses along the way. “I’m going to miss this.” His voice was low and husky.

  “Me too,” she said softly.

  “I could come in.”

  “You could.” I want you to come in. But Charley could show up at any minute. “We wouldn’t get any sleep.”

  “Who needs sleep?”

  She laid her head against his chest. “We both have to work tomorrow.”

  Jake nuzzled the top of her head and sighed. “I know.” He drew back. “Okay. I’ll leave as soon as you open the door and I see you inside safely.”

  Amanda groaned. “Always the cop.”

  “You don’t live in the best neighborhood in Dallas.”

  “I don’t live in the worst.” Her location a few blocks off Harry Hines Boulevard gave her the benefit of low mortgage payments and the ability to have an apartment above her business. If it meant Amanda occasionally had to chase away drunks or druggies or would-be robbers, she could handle that. Any Texas woman could.

  “We get regular calls to that bar down the street,” Jake said. “Fights, drunk and disorderly, people doing drugs and not sharing with their buddies.” Jake looked again toward the street.

  “Nobody’s there.” She said the words as much to herself as to him. She couldn’t shake the sensation of being watched. That sensation was usually justified. Charley’s ghost rarely left her side. Now that she was back home, she expected him to appear and had somehow communicated her paranoia to Jake. That had to be the explanation.

  “Humor me,” he said.

  She turned her key in the lock but hesitated before opening the door. What if she wasn’t being paranoid? What if Charley was waiting inside?

  Jake wouldn’t be able to see him, but Charley would be able to see Jake. Charley would go berserk. He refused to acknowledge that death and an almost-complete divorce had severed his ties to Amanda.

  Jake pushed the door open, carried her suitcase inside and flipped on the light.

  Amanda breathed a sigh of relief when no transparent form floated out to berate her.

  Jake went through her living room, glanced into the kitchen, on to her bedroom, and returned. “All clear. I didn’t know you liked purple so much.”

  “You remember my sister?”

  “The one who had a baby recently?”

  “That’s the one. She knows I like purple, and she redecorated my bedroom. I haven’t had a chance to un-redecorate it yet.”

  He grinned. Sighed. “Well. I guess I don’t have any more excuses for not leaving.” He pulled her into his arms again for a luscious, lingering kiss. Finally he drew back. “Okay, I’m really going this time. We’re on for Saturday night, right?”

  “Definitely.” She wasn’t certain Teresa would be willing to ghost-sit Charley again so soon, but she wasn’t going to turn down a date with Jake. Somehow she’d figure out a way to get rid of Charley for a few hours on Saturday night.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  Amanda watched as he went down the steps, got in his car and drove away.

  If Charley was around, he’d certainly show himself now.

  The night was still. Nothing moved in the darkness. No shadows. No glowing, glowering form.

  Still she had that creepy sensation of somebody’s gaze on her.

  Damn Charley.

  He’d caused her nothing but problems when he was alive. It was unfair he could continue to cause her problems after he was dead.

  She went inside, closed and locked the door. She had a few more hours without him. Even though her week of wonderful, fantastic, romantic days and nights with Jake was over, she had one more night to transition from vacation to work, from Jake’s searing kisses to Charley’s ann
oying diatribes.

  She settled into bed, turned off the lamp, and pulled up the covers. Maybe she wouldn’t sleep. Maybe she’d lie there and savor the peaceful dark without Charley.

  She closed her eyes and let her thoughts drift to the sunny beach, holding hands with Jake as they raced across the sand into the surf, nestling in Jake’s strong arms at night with the windows open and the ocean breezes brushing their skin. Her thoughts turned into dreams as she slipped into slumber.

  ***

  “You spent the night with that man!”

  Amanda shot bolt upright in bed, going in an instant from dreams of strong arms and warm sunshine to a dark chill.

  Charley stood in front of her, glowing angrily in the pre-dawn dark, hands on his hips. He still wore a ghostly image of the khakis and white Polo shirt he’d worn the day he was murdered. Fortunately the blood stains hadn’t made it into the after-life. His clothing was perpetually pristine.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

  “I live here!”

  Amanda fell back to her pillow with a groan. “You don’t live anywhere. You’ve been dead for over six months, and you moved out of this apartment a year before that.”

  “That’s right! Throw it up to me that I’m dead, like I don’t matter anymore because I got shot and died.”

  Her phone rang.

  She checked the caller ID. “Hi, Teresa.”

  “He’s on his way. I couldn’t hold him any longer,” Teresa said. “He’s worn me out this week. Did you know he can talk for hours, nonstop?”

  “Yes,” Amanda said. “I know that. Did you know he can travel faster than your 4G network?”

  Teresa sighed. “I’m sorry.”

  Charley shoved his head close to the phone. “I can’t believe you were a part of this, Teresa. I thought you were my friend.”

  “Thanks for the vacation, Teresa,” Amanda said. “It was great. I owe you.”

  Amanda laid the phone back on the nightstand and checked the time. Six thirty. Too early to get up. She pulled the covers over her head though she knew it was a futile attempt to get away from him.

  “You’re still my wife!”

  A completely futile attempt. She sat up and put her feet on the cold hardwood floor. “I am not your wife. You’re dead. Till death do us part.” She said the words automatically, knowing they wouldn’t matter. She’d said them dozens of times...maybe hundreds of times...during the six months since Charley’s death and his reappearance in her life as a ghost.

  “Death didn’t part us. I’m right here. The only reason I wasn’t with you when you went off with that damned detective was because your friend held me captive!”

  Her motorcycle repair shop downstairs didn’t open officially for another three and a half hours, but she might as well get up.

  “Remember how you felt when I went off with other women?” Charley continued. “That’s how I feel now when you go off with another man!”

  She grabbed clean underwear and headed into the bathroom. When she turned to close the bathroom door, Charley was right there.

  “No! You cannot follow me into the bathroom!”

  “Oh.” He stopped and blinked. “I didn’t realize—”

  “Get out.”

  He backed away, and she closed the door behind him.

  “You said I broke your heart when I went out with those other women.” His words carried easily through the closed door.

  Amanda turned on the shower. The sound of the water muted his voice while the warmth washed away the chill. She stayed in that blissful place until the hot water ran out.

  She dressed, went to the kitchen, and set a kettle of water on to heat. It was a hot tea morning.

  Charley followed on her heels and continued to rant.

  The refrigerator yielded half a package of cheese with only a little mold which could easily be scraped off. She opened the pantry door to search for the tortilla chips.

  “Are you listening to me?” Charley appeared inside the pantry. His head perched on the top shelf with one ear through a bottle of wine. A package of Peanut Butter Oreos on the second shelf protruded through his chest. One arm waved through a package of tortilla chips, the other through a cannister of hot chocolate mix.

  “No.” Amanda yanked out the chips, stepped aside and turned on the oven.

  “Some drunk passed out in your parking lot.”

  Amanda took down a cookie sheet. “Still not listening.”

  “There is a man laying in your parking lot. I saw him on my way in.”

  “Lying, not laying.” She spread the chips in the pan. “I’m laying cheese on the chips. Your fictitious man is lying there all by himself.”

  “Whatever. You need to run him off before your customers get here.”

  Amanda added jalapeno slices and slid her breakfast nachos into the oven. “Is there really somebody passed out drunk in my parking lot?”

  “I can’t lie anymore. Remember?”

  “That must really suck, to have one of your favorite activities taken away from you.”

  “I can’t eat or drink either. I can’t even stop my wife from going off on a trip with another man.”

  “I liked it better when you were talking about the drunk in the parking lot. Is he still there?”

  Charley left the room then returned. “Yes. He’s laying under the catalpa tree out by the street.”

  Amanda resisted the urge to correct Charley’s grammar again. He was dead. Too late to learn correct English. “It’s almost seven o’clock. Surely that guy will sober up enough to leave before daylight.” She took her nachos from the oven and sat down at her antique/old enamel-top table.

  Charley took a seat across from her, leaned his elbows a couple of inches into the table, and dropped his head into his hands. “I guess this is how you felt when I cheated with all those other women.”

  “We were married when you cheated with those other women. We’d have been divorced before you were killed if you hadn’t been a total jerk about signing the papers. Death and an almost-divorce. That makes us twice unmarried.” She bit into a nacho, savoring the heat from the oven and the jalapeno slice.

  “That damned detective will cheat on you. I’ve seen the look in his eyes.”

  “Would that be the same look you used to see in the mirror?” She ate another nacho.

  “You know I’m right. You don’t trust him. That’s why you haven’t told him about me.”

  The kettle whistled. Amanda got up to pour hot water over a tea bag.

  It was true she hadn’t told Jake about Charley.

  The right moment had not presented itself.

  Yes, I’d love to go to dinner with you, Jake. By the way, my ex-husband’s ghost lives with me. Okay if we bring him along? He doesn’t eat much.

  That could end in a couple of ways.

  He wouldn’t believe her.

  He’d think she was crazy.

  There was, of course, a third possibility...that he’d believe her and everything would be fine.

  Yeah, and she was going to be the next big lottery winner.

  She hadn’t even bought a ticket, but that possibility still seemed more likely than Jake accepting her story without reservations and continuing to have a relationship with her.

  Teresa knew about Charley, of course. Teresa had seen him herself. Teresa talked to dead people for a living. Teresa was able to hold Charley against his will so he wasn’t with Amanda twenty-four/seven.

  Someday she’d have to tell Jake about Charley if things kept progressing in the direction they were going.

  Unless Charley went away.

  Unless he advanced into the light.

  Or descended into the dark.

  Whatever.

  “Don’t have anything to say to that, do you?” Charley taunted.

  Amanda set her cup on the table and had another nacho.

  “You spend the night...seven nights!...with another man, you at least ought to let him k
now you’re still living with your husband!”

  Amanda finished her nachos and sipped her tea while Charley ranted and flitted about the apartment in a strobe effect.

  At seven thirty Amanda put her dishes in the sink and headed for the door. Charley wasn’t going to shut up. She couldn’t relax. She might as well go downstairs and get some work done.

  “Where are you going?” Charley demanded.

  “To work. It’s what those of us in the land of the living do. Oh, but you didn’t do that even when you were among the living, did you?”

  Charley’s face twisted in frustration. He was trying to lie. He couldn’t. A prohibition from beyond.

  Amanda started down the stairs. The outside temperature was only a few degrees colder than when she’d come up those stairs with Jake beside her the night before, but it felt a lot colder.

  The blackness of night had melted into the gray of early morning, a gray barely light enough to see a crumpled form under the catalpa tree near the street.

  She paused two steps from the bottom. “There really is somebody out there.”

  “I told you so,” Charley said. “He’s completely out of it. Not going anywhere. You need to pour cold water on him or kick him or something.”

  “Why don’t you go down there and run your hand through him a couple of times? That will give the guy such a chill, he’ll sober right up.”

  Charley shuddered. “I don’t want to stick my hand through some drunk stranger.”

  Amanda stepped onto the pavement. “Fine. I’ll take care of it myself.” She stalked across the parking lot.

  A man lay on his side, face turned away from her. His clothes were decent...jeans and a denim jacket. Shoes without holes in them. Hair a little shaggy, but only a few weeks overdue for a trim. Probably not a homeless person. More likely a drunk from the bar down the street, as Charley had said.

  “Sir,” she said loudly. “Sir! You have to get up. It’s time to go home. You can’t sleep here all day.”

  He didn’t move.

  Charley joined her and leaned over to shout in the man’s face then straightened abruptly. “Amanda, I don’t want you to panic or anything, but you need to see him from this side.”