The Ex Who Hid a Deadly Past

by Sally Berneathy

  “I’m pretty sure I don’t need to.” Nevertheless, Amanda walked around the man, expecting to see vomit or spilled alcohol.

  A dark stain spread from his neck along his chest, pooling on the pavement.

  Not vomit.

  Not alcohol.

  Charley’s glow flashed brighter then dimmer then brighter again. He was panicking. “Amanda,” he whispered, “I think he’s...he’s dead.”

  Chapter Two

  Amanda wrapped her arms around herself and shivered in the early morning chill. Yellow crime scene tape separated her from the rest of the world, from any part of the world that wasn’t involved in the nightmare in her parking lot.

  An ambulance, a fire truck, and three police vehicles lined the street. Half a dozen emergency personnel milled about, talking and staying out of the way of the major players...Detectives Jake Daggett and Ross Minatelli.

  Ross squatted on the far side of the body, diligently collecting samples of things Amanda didn’t want to think about. He was such a nice guy...Italian with a brilliant smile. He and Teresa were the consummate charming couple. But when he was at a crime scene, he became the consummate forensics nerd. Bodily fluids were nothing more than DNA sources to him.

  He took another sterile packet from the large backpack he always carried.

  Amanda looked away.

  She and Jake stood on the other side of the body. They were inches apart, but she might as well have been across the city from him. He was in total cop mode, asking questions and writing in his little notebook.

  “When did you discover the body?” he asked.

  The body. “About seven thirty. I saw it when I came downstairs to go to work.”

  “He was here before that. I saw him when I came home.” Charley inserted himself between Amanda and Jake.

  Jake shivered and moved a few inches away.

  Charley had achieved his goal.

  One more check mark in the Get Rid of Charley No Matter What It Takes column.

  “Do you usually come to work that early? Your place doesn’t open until ten.”

  Amanda scowled at Charley. “I couldn’t sleep.” Another check mark in the Get Rid of Charley column.

  Jake’s stern expression softened. “I had a hard time sleeping last night too.”

  “What does that mean?” Charley demanded. “Was he with you in my bed before I came home?” He punched Jake in the nose. His fist passed through and came out the back of Jake’s head.

  Jake blinked and rubbed his nose.

  Amanda cleared her throat to divert his attention from Charley’s actions. “Yes, I had a hard time sleeping, so I came to work early. Because I woke up early.”

  “Did you hear anything during the night?”

  “Anything?” She’d heard Charley.

  “A loud noise, someone shouting, sounds of a struggle, anything that might indicate somebody was on your property?”

  Amanda recalled the odd sensation she’d had of being watched when she and Jake arrived last night. But that wasn’t a sound. It wasn’t even necessarily a real sensation. “No, I didn’t hear anything unusual last night.”

  “Have you ever seen the victim before?”

  Amanda forced herself to look at the dead man. “I don’t think so. I don’t know. I didn’t see his face. I just saw—” She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. “I just saw the blood.”

  “Come around to this side.” Ross smiled cheekily, aware that not everyone viewed a murder scene in the same clinical way he did. “I’ll hold his head up so you can see his face.”

  “I’d rather not. Doesn’t he have ID or something?”

  Ross reached two gloved fingers into the man’s back pocket, pulled out a wallet, and opened it. “Leonard Martin. Lives a couple of miles from here.” He looked at Amanda. “He’s got the M for motorcycle on his license. One of your customers?”

  Someone gasped behind Amanda. She spun around to see her assistant, Dawson.

  “Is that Lenny?” Dawson’s quiet voice seemed loud in the still morning.

  “You know him?” Jake asked.

  Dawson moved around the body and stooped to peer at the face. He straightened and pushed his glasses higher on his nose. “It’s Lenny Martin. Kawasaki Ninja with a bent fork, fender and front wheel rim. Orange when he brought it in. We fixed it and I painted it forest green with silver flames.”

  Amanda lifted a hand to her mouth as the body lying in front of her morphed into a person she’d known. “I remember him.” She hadn’t liked him, but that didn’t dilute the horror of seeing him dead.

  “He complained about everything we did,” Dawson said, “then he refused to pay.”

  “Yes.” Amanda averted her gaze from the dead man and focused on Jake. “We knew him. If his bike’s not twisted around a tree somewhere close, you’ll probably find it at Bikes and Brews, the bar down the street. He didn’t see any reason not to drink and ride.”

  “When was the last time you saw the victim?” Jake asked.

  Amanda flinched as she remembered her recent confrontation with the victim. “I don’t know. A few weeks ago.” She hoped she sounded more casual than she felt.

  “Three weeks,” Dawson said. “He came by on a Wednesday morning and said there was something wrong with his clutch. Amanda told him we’d check out the clutch when he paid for the other repairs.”

  Amanda gritted her teeth and sent Dawson a telepathic message to stop talking, stop providing details about the encounter.

  “He was loud and rude.” Dawson did not get her message. “I was ready to call 911 when Amanda picked up a hammer and told him if he didn’t leave immediately, she was going to bash his head in so far, he’d be looking at his...uh...his testicles.”

  Ross laughed. “You told him that?”

  “I didn’t use the word ‘testicles.’”

  Ross laughed again.

  Jake scowled. “So you had a disagreement with the victim?”

  “A disagreement about whether I could smash his head in so far he’d be looking at his balls? No, I think we both agreed I could do that. He left as soon as I drew back my arm with the hammer in my hand.”

  Jake’s scowl deepened. “You had a disagreement with the victim, and you threatened him with a hammer?”

  Amanda shifted from one foot to the other. “That’s what happened, but it wasn’t like that.”

  “How was it?” asked the stranger who’d held her in his arms a few hours ago.

  “I don’t think I like your tone.”

  Dawson moved closer. “Neither do I. You need to back off.”

  Wow. That was out of character for mild-mannered Dawson.

  Jake blinked, and looked sheepish, contrite. “Sorry. Automatic cop.”

  Amanda’s heart softened. “It’s okay. I understand.”

  Dawson tensed but said nothing more.

  “It’s okay,” Charley mimicked in a high-pitched voice. “I understand. Will you understand if I puke now?”

  Ross stood and picked up his backpack. “I think I’ve got everything I need for now.” His bright smile had disappeared, and his features were taut.

  Had dealing with this body upset him?

  He dealt with dead bodies in worse shape than this one all the time.

  Was something else going on?

  Had Charley’s week-long stint with Teresa caused problems for her and Ross? Ross was smitten with Teresa, but he had trouble accepting her interaction with the spirits of dead people.

  If Amanda found out Charley had caused problems between Teresa and Ross, she’d...

  So far she hadn’t come up with anything she could do to a ghost to punish him for bad behavior.

  “How did Lenny die?” she asked.

  “We won’t know for sure until we get the autopsy results.” Ross’ voice was clinical. He’d been teasing her earlier. When...and why...had his mood changed?

  Amanda folded her arms. “I hate all this cop rigamarole. There’s blood everywh
ere. I’m going to guess he wasn’t poisoned or choked. Gun shot? Knife wound? Hammer?”

  Ross hesitated. He wasn’t a hesitant person. Something had him on edge. “Looks like he was shot. We’ll know more—”

  “After the autopsy. Got it.”

  “All right, guys,” Jake called to the other men, “let’s get the body to the morgue.”

  “Get the body to the morgue?” Charley repeated. “Like he’s not a person. That’s crude. That man you’ve been sleeping with is crude, Amanda.”

  And the one I was married to wasn’t?

  “You and Dawson can go inside,” Jake said. “If we have any more questions, I’ll call you.”

  Amanda turned away.

  Jake laid a hand on her shoulder, and she looked back.

  He gave her a half smile and a quick wink. “I’ll call you later without questions.”

  That was better. She returned his smile.

  Charley groaned. “I can’t take this.” He disappeared. With any luck, he wouldn’t return.

  And the sun would rise in the west tomorrow.

  Dawson’s shoulders drooped as he walked beside her across the parking lot to the shop. “I probably shouldn’t have told them about your argument with Lenny.”

  She would have preferred the cops not have that particular bit of information, but recriminations wouldn’t change anything. The words could not be unsaid. “It’s okay. He died from a gunshot wound, not a hammer to the head. Besides, Jake knows I’d never hurt anybody.”

  “Does he?”

  Amanda stopped at the grim sound of Dawson’s voice. “Of course he does.”

  “Maybe you don’t know Jake as well as you think you do.”

  She studied her assistant’s face. The morning sunlight reflected off the lenses of his glasses, and he squinted against the sun. She couldn’t read his expression.

  Dawson was her friend. She looked out for him, and he looked out for her. Jake had been a little curt, especially considering the two of them had been together intimately a short twenty-four hours earlier. He was being the quintessential cop. Nothing to be concerned about. It was sweet that Dawson was worried about her. Unnecessary but sweet.

  Time to change the subject. “Catch me up on what’s happened since I’ve been gone.” She continued toward the side door. “Any new business?”

  Dawson unlocked the door and held it for her to enter. “A few new jobs.”

  Several bikes in various stages of repair and/or paint jobs sat in the open area along with tools, engine parts, fenders, gas tanks, and other related materials. “It does appear you’ve been busy.”

  Amanda lifted the overhead bay door to let in the fresh air and sunshine. In another month it would be too cold for that. But in another month, they wouldn’t have a lot of business. Motorcycle repairs in the winter slowed down, even in the temperate winters of Dallas.

  Dawson went straight to a Honda Shadow that sat directly under the skylight on the far side of the room...optimum light for his artwork. The bike had already been painted and reassembled, and Dawson was working his magic with the details, forming delicate lines of a design in the early stages.

  “That’s a beautiful color,” she said. “Blue with hints of gray and a touch of pearl. Looks custom. Did you mix it yourself?”

  He sank to the floor beside the bike and focused on the tank. “Yes.”

  Why wouldn’t he look at her? Why was he reticent about discussing the cycle?

  “He’s doing that for a woman.” Charley had returned. Yay. “Dawson, don’t waste your time. You can’t trust them.”

  Charley might be right that Dawson was working on the bike for a female. The Shadow was a popular bike with women because of the lower seat height, and the color wasn’t something a macho male biker would choose.

  And he was blushing.

  She strolled closer. “What kind of design are you putting on it?”

  “She likes flowers, so I’m doing some unstructured forms to represent flowers.”

  Aha! She.

  At twenty-one years of age, Dawson had accomplished a lot. He was attending college part-time, studying computers and art, had been raising his twelve-year-old brother for the two years since the death of their parents, and he was her invaluable assistant. But in many ways he was an innocent child who blushed easily.

  Much as she wanted to know what was going on, she would not ask and cause him to blush more. “Sounds great. I’ll check out the order for that blown engine over there and get to work on it.”

  “Ask him who she is,” Charley demanded.

  Amanda walked straight through Charley. Even though the act produced a cold shudder, it made her point.

  “I hate it when you do that,” he said.

  “I know you do,” she said softly as she headed toward the three small rooms at the back of the work area. The room with no door was a storage area. The first room with a door was their omni-sex bathroom. The second, the only door with a lock, opened to the designated office and contained a file cabinet, a safe, and a desk with a computer.

  Amanda started to insert her key but the door swung open at her touch.

  “Dawson, did you forget to lock the office last night?” He was so OCD, that seemed unlikely. But he could have been distracted by the owner of that bike.

  “No, I’m sure I locked it. Why?”

  “It’s not locked.”

  Dawson left his work to examine the door. “I’m sure I did it before I left last night. I don’t understand. Can I see the key?”

  “I understand,” Charley said. “He was fooling around with that woman who owns the Shadow. Ask him if she was here.”

  Charley could be right, but Amanda was not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

  She handed the key to Dawson. “Don’t worry about it. The lock’s old. Maybe it moved so easily, I thought it was unlocked when it wasn’t.”

  “It was unlocked,” Charley said. “You think it’s a coincidence you found your office door unlocked the same morning a man was killed in your parking lot?”

  Of course it was a coincidence. The unlocked door was an interior door. The outside doors had both been securely locked. Charley was being melodramatic. Again.

  Dawson locked and unlocked the door, closed it, opened it.

  “It’s no big deal,” Amanda assured him. All the expensive equipment is out here in the main area, and we know the locks on the outside doors are solid. I don’t know why we bother with this one anyway.”

  Actually, she did know why. Because Dawson was obsessive and insisted they lock it. Interesting that he would have forgotten his own rule. Whatever or whoever was on his mind must be very distracting.

  Was Dawson in the throes of first love?

  Throughout the rest of the day, he alternated between working on various jobs then going back to the Shadow, allowing one series of brush strokes to dry before adding the next. He was a perfectionist, but this attention to detail was overkill even for him.

  Amanda dropped her gaze to the engine she was working on and smiled. She felt a little like a mother whose son had his first girlfriend.

  Dawson left a little after four to pick up his brother from school.

  Amanda finished winterizing a bike and surveyed the remaining projects. Nothing that couldn’t wait until tomorrow.

  She washed up, closed and locked the overhead door and the office door in the back.

  “What are you doing?” Charley asked. “It’s not time to close.”

  “I’m fried. Some jerk woke me before dawn. I’m the boss. I get to say when it’s time to close, and it’s time to close.” She went out through the side door and carefully locked it also.

  The sun was still shining though it was a weak autumn sun.

  Her gaze went involuntarily to the far side of the parking lot where Leonard Martin’s body had lain a few hours ago. He hadn’t been one of her favorite people, nobody she’d invite over for dinner. He was an annoying man who drank
too much and couldn’t manage his money. He’d blamed both problems on his ex-wife. Those problems had likely caused her to become an ex.

  Nevertheless, seeing him dead on her property had been disturbing.

  Had his murderer been there last night when she’d felt that someone was watching? If she’d been more vigilant, checked the area while she had a cop on her arm, could she have saved Lenny’s life?

  A car came down the street.

  She held her breath and waited to see if the car would turn into her parking lot.

  The car drove past.

  Good grief.

  Was she going to see danger in every vehicle that came her way? She had a business open to the public.

  But someone had been murdered. Here. On her property.

  “Maybe you could ask Teresa to talk to his spirit and find out who killed him,” Charley said.

  “I wasn’t thinking about the murder,” she lied.

  “Really? So you were standing there admiring the dead leaves on the catalpa tree?”

  Her phone rang.

  She withdrew it from her pocket. The display brought a sparkle to her Charley-overloaded nerves.

  Jake.

  “Hi, there.” She started up the stairs to her apartment. “How’s your day been, other than dealing with a dead man?”

  “Hi, Amanda.”

  She hesitated, one foot still on the bottom step. His cop voice. This did not bode well.

  He cleared his throat. “Can you come down to the station tomorrow and give us a DNA sample?”

  Chapter Three

  Charley hooted with laughter. “Your boyfriend wants to take your DNA. Probably your fingerprints too. Do a mug shot. Maybe put you in a lineup.”

  Charley was being a jerk. Amanda knew that. She wasn’t going to let him get to her.

  She lifted her foot to the next step and pressed the phone more tightly to her ear as if she could block Charley from hearing Jake’s end of the conversation. “My DNA?” She gave a short, phony burst of laughter. “Very funny.”

  “I’m sorry, but we really need you to do this.”

  “He didn’t laugh, did he?” Charley taunted. “I’d alibi for you, Amanda, but I wasn’t with you when that man was killed. You sent me away so you could be with your lover, the same lover that’s going to arrest you and put you in prison for murder.”