Moment.
“You think the murderer might come back?” Charley asked.
That possibility had occurred to her, but she’d been trying not to think about it.
She pulled the covers over her head. She was not going to encourage Charley by responding to his nonsense.
The murder had happened in her parking lot because it was convenient to the bar down the street. The murderer wasn’t going to return.
Was he?
She threw back the covers.
Charley stood at the window, looking out at the parking lot.
“Why do you say that?” So much for her resolve not to encourage him.
He turned to face her but said nothing.
“Do you know something I don’t know?” she asked. “You saw the body when you came in. Was somebody with him? Running away from the scene?”
Charley’s glow brightened noticeably. He was pleased he had her attention.
Damn.
“No, I didn’t see anybody. I was trapped across town at Teresa’s when he was killed. Remember? But I’m keeping watch now. I’ll protect you if the murderer comes back.”
“Really? How? You can’t even rattle chains and make ghostly noises.”
Charley’s glow dimmed. “I can wake you, and you can shoot him.”
Amanda sat up and opened her nightstand drawer. The .38 revolver she’d bought from Charley’s friend, Dub, rested there in its holster. She took it out and laid it on her nightstand.
Once in a while Charley made sense.
***
After a mostly sleepless night, Amanda rode to the police station, dismounted from her Harley in the parking lot and pulled off her helmet. She made a vain attempt to smooth the hairs that had escaped the braid at the back of her neck. Not that it mattered if she had helmet hair. Unlikely she’d be seeing Jake unless he came around to put handcuffs on her.
She proceeded up the steps to the front door with Charley beside her.
“Have you made next month’s mortgage payment?” he asked.
“What?” She stopped and looked at him. She tried to avoid doing that in public, but the absurdity of his statement caught her off guard.
“I’d hate to see you lose your shop. You’re going straight to jail, and I don’t know if you can make mortgage payments from jail.”
“I can always count on you to make me feel better.”
“I try.”
“That was sarcasm.” She went inside and approached the front desk where a young woman sat behind a bullet-proof partition. “Amanda Caulfield to see Ross Minatelli.”
“I’ll let him know you’re here.” Even with her blond hair pulled back into a severe bun, the woman was strikingly pretty. Her tailored blouse was unbuttoned enough to give a hint of cleavage. “Ross, Amanda Caulfield is here to see you,” she said into her headset.
Charley drifted slowly closer, his gaze riveted on that hint of cleavage.
The woman clutched the top of her shirt and a strange expression crossed her smooth features. Pleasure? Anger? Bemusement? Could the woman see or at least sense Charley leering at her?
Amanda reached for him to restrain him. Her hand passed through his arm, and he moved on, halfway through the plexiglass, straight into the blonde’s bosom.
“Detective Minatelli will be right with you,” the blonde said.
“Thank you.” Amanda walked to the other side of the room. She couldn’t do anything about Charley ogling the clerk and didn’t want to watch the event. If the woman couldn’t see him, she wouldn’t know what was happening. If she could see him, he was her problem.
“Good morning, Amanda.”
She spun around to see Ross emerging from the hallway. He smiled though it wasn’t his usual full-face-involved smile.
Or maybe she was being paranoid after her phone call with Jake last night.
“Hi, Ross.” They were friends, but a hug in the police station might be inappropriate. Should she shake hands with him since this was a business situation? That didn’t seem right either.
He settled her indecision by stepping aside and gesturing down the hall. “After you.”
“Don’t go there, Amanda.” Charley blocked her way. “You’ll never return.”
Amanda pushed through him, refusing to acknowledge his ridiculous statement.
But the hallway seemed ominous and foreboding. Were they going to the same room where Jake had interrogated her after Charley’s murder? Would she ever return, ever ride her motorcycle again, ever see her home again?
“Elevators on the left.” Ross reached around her and pushed the down button.
The elevator doors opened.
Charley floated in and turned to face her, arms spread as if to stop her from coming in. “What if this is the elevator to hell? Abandon all hope when you enter here.”
He couldn’t even get his ominous quotes right. However, this would not be a good time to point out his error.
She marched in and stood with her back to Charley.
Ross joined them and pushed the button for the basement.
This felt awkward.
How could she feel awkward around the perennially friendly, talkative Ross?
Because he was going to take her DNA. He was going to run tests and then compare her DNA to that found on the murder victim. The possibility of a DNA match being wrong was one in a billion or one in a gazillion...but that meant a wrong match could be made. What if her DNA was that one in a gazillion?
“Heard you and Teresa had a fun evening,” the taker of DNA said.
Amanda cleared her throat. “Yes. We did. It was fun.”
The elevator door opened.
“This way.” Ross guided her down the hall to a small room with a table and two chairs. An array of envelopes, pens and other paraphernalia rested on the tabletop. He closed the door behind them and motioned her to one of the chairs. “Welcome to my world.”
“Where are all the tubes filled with blood and the brains in jars?” Charley asked.
Amanda sank into the chair and looked around. “This is it? Where are all the...” She’d almost repeated Charley’s absurd words. “Where are all the microscopes and the technical stuff?”
“That would be in the big room at the end of the hall. Want to have a look after we finish with this? I can give you the twenty-five cent tour.”
“Probably not.” She took off her leather jacket, laid her bare arm on the table, looked the other way, and scrunched up her face in preparation for the needle.
Ross grinned. “I’m not going to take your blood. I just need to swab the inside of your cheek.”
“Oh.”
He pulled on rubber gloves, opened a cardboard tube, and withdrew a long-stemmed Q-Tip. “Open wide.”
“Just like at the dentist’s office,” Charley said. “Look out! He’s going for a pair of pliers! He’s going to yank out all your teeth!”
Amanda gulped but forced herself to open her mouth.
He ran the cotton swab around the inside of each cheek. “Hold that pose. I want to do one more as a backup.”
She obeyed and hoped her mouth wouldn’t get stuck in this position.
“Got it. You can close now.” He returned the swabs to the cardboard tubes and snapped the covers back into place.
Amanda closed her mouth, ran her tongue over her teeth, and worked her jaws around. Everything was intact. “That wasn’t so bad.”
He slid a small device across the table to her. “How about fingerprints?”
“Fingerprints?” Charley had predicted this. DNA, fingerprints, mug shot, line-up.
“Livescan. The twenty-first century way. No messy ink. Simply roll the tips of your fingers across the screen.” He touched an indicator. “Right thumb first.”
The procedure was simple and painless. Amanda dared to relax. “Are we all done now?”
Ross stood. “One more thing.”
Charley lounged against the far wall, arms crossed. “Yeah, one more t
hing. Now the mug shot, then the line-up.”
“I need a couple of hairs.”
“Aha!” Charley said. “The victim was probably clutching long red hairs. You’re so screwed.”
Amanda reached for the thick braid at the back of her head. “You want my hair? Are you going to cut it or pull it out? Why do you want my hair?”
“I’m creating a wig with hairs from a thousand different people including all the victims I’ve worked with.”
Amanda gulped. “Are you making that up?”
“Yes.”
He moved behind her and ran his gloved hands over her head a couple of times. She gritted her teeth and waited for the pain of having hairs yanked from her scalp.
“There,” he said. He held up a few strands of long red hair.
“That didn’t hurt.”
“People usually have loose hairs on their head. As thick as your hair is, you probably shed a lot.”
“Yes, I do.”
Ross secured her hairs in an envelope then perched on the edge of the table. “Do you have something to tell me?” He wasn’t exactly frowning, but neither was he smiling. He looked serious. Concerned.
Charley looked smug. “Now he’s going to beat a confession out of you.”
“Something to tell you? No. What do you mean? What are you trying to say? I haven’t done anything wrong! I didn’t kill that man! If you found my hairs on the victim, it’s because I live there. And work there. And I shed. A lot. And the hairs blow around. It’s been windy lately. This is Texas. It’s always windy.”
“You better ask for an attorney,” Charley said.
“I don’t need an attorney!” Amanda bit her lip. Too late. She’d responded aloud to Charley.
Ross studied her intently. “Why would you need an attorney?”
“I don’t. I mean...why do you think I have something to tell you? I don’t know anything. That man came to my parking lot in the middle of the night and got killed. That’s all I know.”
Ross laughed.
“An evil laugh if I ever heard one,” Charley said.
Amanda covered her face with her hands. She didn’t want to see Charley. She didn’t want to see Ross. She didn’t want to be in the bowels of the police station.
Was covering her face a sign of guilt?
She dropped her hands.
Ross was no longer smiling. “I’m not accusing you of killing anyone. I just want to talk about Charley.”
Chapter Five
Amanda gaped at Ross. “Charley?” she repeated. She didn’t want to talk about Charley. She didn’t want Ross to know about her personal haunting.
But how could she not tell him when Teresa was her friend and had asked for her help?
“Did I hear someone call my name?” Charley cupped a hand around one ear and leaned toward her. “Sounds like you’re going to have to stop pretending I’m not here, tell the world your husband is still around and you’re not available to date other men like that damned detective.”
Ross’ gaze pinned her like a bug under a microscope. “What do you know about Charley?”
He was doing the cop thing...asking questions without admitting anything, withholding what he knew so she would confess to everything.
She could play that game. “Oh? Well, Charley was my ex-husband’s name.”
“I’m not your ex!” Charley protested. “Our divorce wasn’t final!”
“I know you were married to Charley Randolph,” Ross said. “Is that the Charley we’re discussing?”
“What did Teresa tell you about Charley?” Answer a question with a question. Find out exactly how much her opponent knew.
“Not much. She said you could tell me all about him.”
Amanda flinched. “Did she?”
Ross nodded. “She did.”
Amanda swallowed and ran a hand over her hair. Probably loosened a few more strands. Leave her DNA everywhere she went. “Teresa’s gift may be a little different from the norm, but that shouldn’t matter. You and she—you have a good relationship. Something special. She’s a special person. You’re a special person.” Amanda cringed at the words coming out of her mouth. Could she sound any dumber?
Ross said nothing.
“Quit doing that!” she said.
“What?”
She waved a hand through the air. “Not saying anything.”
He kept doing it.
She lowered her brows and tried to look fierce. “I’ll bet you bully a lot of innocent people into confessing by doing that.”
He sat quietly waiting. He thought she was going to crack.
She was not going to. She was not going to confess about Charley.
“He’s my ex-husband’s ghost!” Amanda clenched her teeth, but it was too late. The words had already escaped. “Damn you!”
“I’m your husband!” Charley stamped his foot through the floor.
Ross smiled...triumphantly, she thought. “I didn’t do anything,” he said.
“And I’m not a ghost!” The ghost spun around the room so fast Amanda thought he might take off, go through the ceiling. Disappear.
Of course he didn’t.
“Would you like something to drink?” Ross asked. “I could get you a Coke.”
Amanda shot to her feet. “No. I need to go. Now.”
“You’ve already confessed. You might as well fill in the details.”
Amanda sank back onto the hard plastic chair. She didn’t want to stay, but suddenly she didn’t have the energy to leave.
“I’m curious to know why Teresa was stuck with the ghost of your ex-husband all weekend,” Ross said.
“I’m not her ex!” Charley said.
Ross was taking it well. He hadn’t accused her of being nuts or having hallucinations.
“Are you recording this?” she asked.
“Believe it or not, this conversation isn’t any more fun for me than it is for you. I really care about Teresa, but this whole seeing-dead-people thing takes some getting used to.”
“Is that a yes or a no?”
“It’s a definite no. I don’t intend to share this with anybody.”
She drew in a deep breath and released it on a huge sigh. “Charley was murdered.”
Ross nodded. “By Roland Kimball, mayor of Silver Creek. I know about that.”
“Since then, he’s been attached to me by some kind of invisible leash a couple of hundred feet long. But after Teresa almost got him to go into the light, he somehow got attached to her so she can call him to her and keep him with her.”
“And she did that while you and Jake took a vacation together? She had custody of him this past weekend?”
“Yes.”
“Is he with you or Teresa now?”
“Oh, he’s here with me.”
“Here? In this room?”
“Yes.”
Ross looked around. “Where?”
“Right now he’s hovering above your head, making stupid faces.”
“That sounds like the...uh...entity that spent the weekend with us.”
“Teresa told me he wasn’t a polite guest. He was a jerk in life, he’s a jerk in death.”
“I have my reasons.” Charley settled into the corner. With any luck, he would sulk for a while.
“That whole spirit thing,” Ross said, “it’s strange.”
Amanda shot a glare in Charley’s direction. “Believe me, I completely understand how you feel. It took me a while to accept that I wasn’t hallucinating when Charley came around. I was in a motorcycle wreck, rolled down a mountain, had a concussion. I thought...hoped...he would go away when my brain healed.”
“Teresa’s seen them all her life,” Ross said. “She thought everybody did when she was a kid. It still seems normal to her.”
“I’m glad you understand, that you’re okay with her...uh...gift. She cares about you. She was worried it would be a problem.”
He drew in a deep breath. “It has been a problem. But after my brother
’s death...well, I kind of have to accept that she’s telling the truth.”
“That she’s not crazy.”
“Yeah.”
The room went silent.
Amanda started to rise, glad to escape.
“It helps to know Teresa’s not the only one,” Ross said. “I’m glad you told me about Charley.”
Amanda relaxed back into her chair. This was going better than she’d expected. “There are probably a lot of people out there who can see spirits but don’t admit it because their friends will think they’re nuts.”
“That’s possible.”
More silence.
Ross cleared his throat. “When are you going to tell Jake about Charley?”
So much for things going better than she’d expected. Amanda shifted uncomfortably in her uncomfortable chair. “I don’t know.”
“Don’t you think you should?”
Charley broke his sulk by laughing.
“I guess,” Amanda said.
“Do you want me to tell him for you?”
Amanda gulped. “No! Ummm...no, thank you.”
“Why don’t you want to tell him? You insisted I have to accept that Teresa talks to dead people. Don’t you trust Jake to accept that you do the same thing?”
Amanda grabbed her motorcycle jacket and stood. “I have to go.”
Ross grinned wryly. “I know. You left the water running at home.”
“Something like that.” Amanda hurried through the door.
“Let me walk you out.”
Ross’ offer drifted faintly to Amanda as she rushed down the hall toward the elevator. He caught up with her while she waited for the doors to open.
“I get it,” he said. “I understand you don’t want to tell Jake. I was a jerk when Teresa told me about her, uh, gift. About seeing ghosts, spirits, all that.”
“I don’t have a gift. I’m cursed with being able to see one dead person. My ex-husband.”
“Not your ex,” Charley grumbled.
The elevator doors opened.
Amanda went in and turned back to halt Ross. “I can find my way out. Thanks.”
He nodded. “Okay. Give Jake some credit. I got past it. He will too.”
“You think you’d be able to accept it if Teresa’s ex was living with her?”
The elevator doors slid closed before Ross could answer. He would have had time to answer if he hadn’t needed to stop and think about it. That, in itself, was an answer.
The Ex Who Hid a Deadly Past Page 4