Cold Cases and Haunted Places

by Trixie Silvertale

“Bob, hello. My name’s Sage,” my sister said, and she did this bizarre little curtsy manoeuvre. I cringed.

  “And I’m Connie. You already know that. Just in case you, erm, maybe you forgot. So…”

  “Have you found any clues?” He asked.

  “We’re still investigating,” I said. “Can we ask you some questions?”

  “Sure, sure,” he said. “How can I help?”

  “Are you single?” Sage asked. I turned to her with a stern gaze that she chose to ignore.

  “I like to say that I’m married to my work,” Bob gave a self-deprecating smile. “So, yes, I’m single. And I was at the time of the murder.”

  “And can you talk us through your falling out with Alberto?” I jumped in before Sage could ask something even more inappropriate.

  “Well, I wouldn’t say there was a falling out,” Bob said. “I was never actually that close to Alberto.”

  “You weren’t?”

  “No,” he said with a smile. “Like I said, I was married to my work. The press seems to imagine we were best friends, but we were simply colleagues. We co-wrote some books together. I wrote my chapters, faxed them across to Alberto, and he did the same. We made edits and sent them back and forth. We spoke on the phone if needed, but both of us were introverts. If we could get out of a phone call, we would.”

  “So when did you actually see each other in person?”

  “We had a couple of shared acquaintances,” Bob said. “Jessica was our joint agent.”

  “And Rita was your joint assistant?” I guessed.

  “Oh, no!” Bob laughed. “Alberto’s interest in her was far less professional. To answer your earlier question, we came together face to face when Jessica insisted on it. Perhaps to give an interview or attend a course, or the Christmas party. Those kind of things.”

  “The two of you got on?”

  Bob considered that question for several seconds. “I guess, looking back, I’m not surprised by what happened. Alberto leaving, I mean, not being killed. He was always more ambitious than I was, always looking for the literary trends so we could shape our work in that direction. I just wanted to write and live a quiet life.”

  “Didn’t you want to find a woman friend?” Sage interrupted.

  “Sage!” I exclaimed.

  Bob’s cheeks flushed. “It would have been nice but the opportunity never came up.”

  “I find that hard to believe,” Sage continued on, like a sledgehammer. “Handsome man like you? Surely the ladies threw themselves at you.”

  “Sage, let’s get back to the questions,” I gave her a fierce look. She stuck her tongue out at me. “Who could have killed him, Bob?”

  “Well,” Bob said. “I think it has to be one of us. Me,Jessica, Rita or Derek.”

  “Derek?” I raised an eyebrow.

  “He was interning for us that year. I believe he was fired, although it was presented as more of a mutual agreement.”

  “What did he do?”

  “Oh,” Bob sighed. “I only heard this on the gossip mill, you know? I have no idea if it’s true. But the rumour was that he was caught stealing from Alberto.”

  “Stealing? How much?” I asked.

  “Oh!” Bob exclaimed. “Not money. No, he was… erm… taking more delicate items. I believe it was underwear specifically.”

  “He was stealing the guy’s underwear and you still let him come to your talks?” Sage asked, her button nose wrinkled in disgust.

  “He’s from quite the powerful family,” Bob said. “The consensus was to try and keep him on our side if possible.”

  “Was he ever investigated for the murder? It sounds like he was obsessed with Alberto.”

  Bob frowned. Again, his cheeks flushed. “He stole from both of us.”

  “And yet he didn’t kill you,” I said. “You think that proves his innocence? Because if he’d gone crazy fan on you both, you’d both have been killed?”

  “Not really,” Bob said. “Derek’s quite the scorned fan. As soon as Alberto left us, Derek cut all ties with him. It was as if Alberto and I were a divorced couple. Derek chose which side he was on right away.”

  “Which fits perfectly with him murdering Alberto,” I said.

  “Bob,” Sage said. We both looked at her, and as soon as I saw her fluttering eyelashes I knew where the conversation was going. “What do you look for in a woman?”

  7

  I couldn’t stomach my sister’s shameless flirting any longer. It was clear that Bob Ballinger had been protected from groupies during his career. He had those deer-in-the-headlights eyes, as if he had no idea how to save himself from Sage’s attentions.

  I wasn’t about to save him either, and I’ll be honest, my motives were a little selfish. If he agreed to date my sister, surely that would mean I’d see more of him! I could picture the hours I’d get to spend alone with him, talking about his books, while she got ready for their dates.

  Oh yes, I’d got quite the fantasy going and I needed to clear my head and get back to the investigation. I decided some fresh air might help.

  The street was empty, apart from a dark shape loitering near the rickety front gate. The person turned and the side of their face was illuminated by the full moon.

  “What are you still doing here?” I asked.

  The journalist sneered at me and slid his phone into his pocket. “And you are?”

  “I’m not telling you my name,” I said. The last thing I wanted was to be quoted in whatever rag he sold his stories to. “That was awful behaviour in there. You should be ashamed.”

  “Just doing my job,” he said with a shrug. “Don’t tell me you’re another one who’s got the hots for him.”

  “I admire his literary talent!” I exclaimed, then realised that it would be more helpful to the case if I questioned him rather than argued with him. “What makes you think he did it, anyway?”

  The journalist snickered. “Ah, not totally blinded by his charms then. You know the history, I guess? If you’re enough of a fan to be out here on Halloween, I’m guessing so.”

  “Yes,” I said. “Someone involved in the business probably did it, but how can you be sure it was Bob?”

  “He got his ego hurt, didn’t he?”

  “Did he?” I asked. It hadn’t seemed that way to me at all. In fact, Bob didn’t seem to have much of an ego.

  “They were partners, and then off Alberto goes with Bob’s dream project and takes all the credit. Of course his ego was hurt.”

  “Hold on, Bob’s dream project?”

  At that, the journalist turned and raised an eyebrow. Case closed. “Forget to tell you that bit, did he? Oh yes. Alberto’s huge success was Bob’s project. Bob had been working on it for years, made the mistake of sharing the idea with Alberto, and off he runs. Can’t blame the guy for killing him, in some ways.”

  “Well surely Bob would have gone to the police if that was the case,” I said.

  “Seems he wanted the satisfaction of sorting it himself.”

  I shook my head. “There were lots of others who could have done it. How about his lover? He abandoned her too.”

  The journalist cackled at that suggestion. “Rita MacKenzie’s never shed a tear over a man in her life!”

  “Hold on -”

  “You didn’t know it was her?” He raised the eyebrow again. “Call yourself a fan?”

  “I’m a fan of the literature! Why is that so hard for people to understand!” I was getting a little wound up by the man and needed to focus. “So, Alberto was having an affair with Rita?”

  “Don’t know if I’d call it an affair,” he said. “She’s had four or five husbands, it’s hard to keep track of who came when. But the two of them were hooking up at all of Jessica’s events for a while, sure. Bound to end badly.”

  “But you said…”

  “I said Rita doesn’t cry over her men. That’s true. She has her fun, and when she gets bored, she kicks the man out and gets him replaced.”
r />   “Maybe it’s different if the man gets bored of her?”

  He considered that for a moment. “Nah. First husband ran off with her best friend. She had his brother keeping her company overnight in no time. Don’t think she married him, but he kept the bed warm over winter!”

  I screwed my nose up. “How on earth do you know all this?”

  “It’s my job to know things. That’s why I’m still here now, I hang around and listen. Stay still, stay in the dark, people don’t even notice. You know the thing most people do as soon as they leave someone’s company?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “They phone someone else to gossip about the person they’ve just left.”

  “Nonsense!” I said, although my cheeks flushed as I realised I’d done exactly that, once or twice. I needed to change the subject. “What else can you tell me about Alberto’s death?”

  “I can tell you it would have been painful,” the journalist did a crass impression of someone unable to breathe. I looked away. “And I can tell you, if he’d stolen my biggest idea like he did to Bob, I’d take great pleasure in that thought.”

  8

  I didn’t get a chance to extract myself from the reporter’s attentions, as the front door of the dilapidated house burst open and he poised his camera ready to photograph something behind me.

  “Go on! Get out of here!” Rita called. She advanced towards the reporter, who thought better of the camera and started to back away with his hands in the air, as if he was dealing with armed police. “You’re vermin! You know we don’t put up with your sort around here.”

  “Hey, Rita baby,” he flashed a grin but carried on moving away. Reckless but not completely stupid, then.

  “Don’t baby me,” she folded her arms across her ample chest. “I want you out of my sight in the next three seconds.”

  “Fine, fine,” he said, and without another word he turned and walked away. Rita watched him, then turned her attentions to me. Her eyes were narrow with suspicion.

  “What were you two talking about?”

  “I just came out to get some air,” I said. “I was surprised he was still here.”

  “They’re always still here,” she said. “Reporters make me sick, hanging around trying to find a headline in someone else’s misery.”

  “You’re awfully loyal to Bob,” I said.

  She paused. “I’m loyal to myself.”

  “I’m not suggesting anything untoward,” I flushed. “I know you’re married, or were, or… I’m…”

  “They come and go,” she said with a click of her fingers. “Daddy’s the only man I need.”

  “Oh,” I said. “But you’ve worked with Bob for a long time now. You must feel some loyalty towards him? You kicked that reporter out so quick in there.”

  She shrugged. “All part of the job. I do my job well. And I don’t dislike Bob at all, I’m not saying that.”

  “You were around for the whole Alberto situation?”

  “I was,” she said, her voice cagey.

  “What can you tell me about it all?”

  “I can tell you he was here one minute, gone the next. None of us got so much as a goodbye from him.”

  “The reporter said he actually stole Bob’s book idea. Is that true?”

  “You’d have to ask Bob about that,” Rita said. She peered down the street and I realised that her attentions were still focused on the reporter.

  “Why has he bothered you so much?”

  “Alberto?”

  “The reporter.”

  “I don’t trust his sort,” she said. “I never have. And it’s underhanded to buy a ticket and pretend to be a fan. If we’re going to be doing an interview, I’d rather know up front. Speaking of which, are you questioning me? Am I a suspect?”

  “No,” I exclaimed. “You’re not a suspect. You’re just helping me with my enquiries. If you don’t mind?”

  “I do mind,” she said. “Bob’s in a right state in there and he has another talk to do tomorrow. It’s my job to make sure he goes out on stage and gives the crowd what they want.”

  Even I knew that ten people in a room was hardly a crowd, but I decided not to mention that.

  “And you say you’re not loyal to him,” I said with a smile. The comment was meant to be a joke, a light-hearted tease of the loyalties she was denying. But Rita advanced on me and got so up in my face I could see a swipe of pink lipstick on one of her front teeth.

  “I’ve told you,” she hissed. “I care about me. It’s not my problem if I’m surrounded by weak men. If he can’t do his bit properly, none of us get paid. Understand?!”

  “Sure,” I said. She huffed and stomped back inside.

  I watched her and saw Sage eyeing me from the front window. A moment later, she pushed herself through the glass and came over to me on the overgrown lawn.

  “That looked intense,” she said.

  “You’re not kidding,” I said. “I think Rita MacKenzie might just be a feminist in animal print.”

  “Rita MacKenzie?” Sage blinked at me.

  “Haven’t you been paying any attention tonight? That’s Bob’s assistant.”

  “Oh, I was paying a lot of attention, don’t worry,” Sage purred. “In fact, I have a date with Bob Ballinger.”

  “You have no such thing!” I heard myself shriek.

  “Well…” Sage said. “I asked if he did private talks about his work. I’m thinking we’ll book him to come to yours one night, and you just won’t be there!”

  “Hold on, you’re willing to pay a man for his company?” I asked. Sage had never had to resort to such desperate measures, either in her lifetime or her afterlife.

  “He gets paid for this?” Sage asked. “You mean you’ve paid for us to be here tonight?”

  “Yes, of course I have! This is his work. He sells tickets. So if he agreed to your little plan it’s because he wants to earn some money and reach a wider audience, not because he wants to cosy up alone with you.”

  “Hmm,” Sage said. “We’ll see.”

  “What did you want to say about Rita anyway?”

  “Rita?” Sage asked. The moment had gone. Her focus had returned, as normal, to the most handsome man in the vicinity. “Oh, I think I know her father.”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve been buying alone time with him too,” I teased.

  She laughed at that and I felt myself stand a little taller. “Definitely not. He wouldn’t be interested in your money anyway. He’s loaded.”

  “How do you know this?” I asked.

  “Connie, it’s like you live under a rock sometimes. Ian MacKenzie? He’s in all of the magazines I flick through. And the woman on his arm is normally Rita. Which is weird, since I’m sure he has a wife.” She shrugged and turned away, the pull of the handsome man inside obviously too strong to resist any longer.

  “Hold on, Sage? You said he wouldn’t be interested in my money?”

  “Well I don’t have any of my own!” She called, and with that she disappeared back into the house.

  9

  “Let’s regroup,” I suggested. Bob had gone for a lie down and Jessica appeared to have fallen asleep while still holding her drink. Rita was tapping away on her phone and Derek had gone to fetch hot dogs for everyone.

  “Regroup?” Sage asked. “Is that management talk?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Let’s see where we’re up to. What have you found out?”

  “Well,” Sage gushed. “My big discovery is that Bob Ballinger is hotter than a saucepan.”

  “Fascinating. And anything to do with who the killer is?”

  “That’s your area. I say we should stick to our interests. You’re interested in murder, I’m interested in handsome men.”

  “I’m not interested in murder!” I exclaimed.

  “Well, you keep finding yourself wrapped up in murder cases,” she said with a smile. I couldn’t argue with that. I did keep finding myself wrapped up in murder cases. And it turn
ed out, I was good at solving them.

  “Maybe I am interested in murder after all,” I mumbled.

  “See! I know you better than you know yourself.”

  I shook my head but felt that bubble of happiness that Sage’s attention always gave me. She was the life and soul of every party, and even being dead hadn’t stopped that. Everyone wanted a glimmer of her time, her attention, her radiance. Occasionally she stopped still and remembered that I was the closest one to her, and as petty as it seemed, I had to admit it felt good.

  “So, it’s down to me?” I joked. “I’ve figured out that Alberto seems like an awful man. He stole Bob’s book idea and left everyone he knew behind. Off he went for the big time. He even left Rita, and she wasn’t a business contact!”

  “What was she?” Sage asked.

  “They were involved romantically,” I whispered.

  “Wow,” Sage said. “She must have been furious.”

  “As furious as everyone else, I guess. He stole Bob’s work, he robbed Jessica of millions in royalties, and he…”

  “Broke Rita’s heart?” Sage asked. She didn’t keep her own voice down.

  Rita snickered from the side of the room but didn’t stop scrolling on her phone. “He did no such thing, I can promise you that.”

  “It must have hurt, being dumped like that?”

  “I wasn’t dumped,” Rita said. “We saw each other sometimes. It was casual. Very casual. I was married, I’m sure he was involved with other people too. It’s not as if I was his girlfriend.” She said girlfriend in a high, mock voice as if the word itself was ridiculous.

  “You said he left without so much as a goodbye to anyone,” I remembered her words from outside. “Did that include you?”

  She sighed and looked up at me. Her expression was unreadable, either because she had a good poker face or because the amount of make-up she wore hid her face so well. “Yes, it included me.”

  “Ouch,” Sage exclaimed. “That must sting.”

  “He never rang me,” Rita said. “My husband at the time was a little, um, jealous.”

  “I wonder why!”