A Guilty Ghost Surprised (An Indigo Eady Paranormal Cozy Mystery series) Page 5

  Robbie had just hung up the phone. Glancing up, his eyes widened at our approach He hadn’t expected to see us there voluntarily, either.

  “Well, and what can I do for you lot today?” Robbie wasn’t a huge guy, but stocky and tough-looking, probably about twenty-one years old. His rolled-up sleeves revealed Popeye-like forearms, and his freckles matched his short ginger hair.

  As the self-appointed spokesperson, I stepped forward. “We’d like to speak to you. In private,” I added, looking around at the few people drifting through the office. We didn’t want to be overheard.

  He looked at the watch on his left wrist and said, “I’m due for lunch. Will the police canteen do?”

  We took the lift to the basement. Only a skeleton crew worked on Saturday, so we virtually had the place to ourselves. Robbie purchased lunch, while the boys and I drank coffee. We took a booth in the corner.

  Robbie peeled the wrapper from his sandwich as I explained, hesitantly, what we wanted; the name of the officers in the area of the accident on that fateful night. Simon needed information about the deaths of his family so he could have closure. A sudden hot flash warmed my cheeks as I omitted the part about investigating the murders. I fanned my face. Is omission the same as lying? If so, I am so going to hell.

  “Sorry about the heat,” said Robbie, misinterpreting my discomfort. “The thermostat is stuck on tropical all winter. Once summer hits, though, it will be arctic.” He set his sandwich into the paper basket and stared down for a drawn-out minute.

  We exchanged worried glances.

  When Robbie looked up, he directed his gaze at Simon. “My superior and I came upon the accident that night.” He shook his head. “Only eighteen years old and a rookie at the time. My D.S., Dick Wilkins, drove the car. Cloud coverage darkened the whole area, so visibility was low to begin with, the street wet and not well lit. We almost didn’t see the car.” He took a deep breath. “The woman—your mum—and your brother…they...they had already died.” He rubbed his face, then the back of his neck. He cleared his throat before continuing. “We thought you were gone, too. We couldn’t reach you with the way the car laid on its side. We waited for rescue services.”

  Simon’s face lost color. His lips worked, as if he tried to say something.

  I squeezed his arm and spoke for him. “Did you see anyone else in the area? Someone who might have witnessed the accident?”

  Robbie hesitated—only slightly—then shook his head. The experience clearly stayed with him. And his hesitation stayed with me…

  “Well, thank you for the information.” I stood and extended my hand. As we made contact, a vision ran through my head...pitch black on a wet, dark road…a white car lie on the passenger side, the driver side wheels still rotated. Robbie stood and stared, a disturbed look on his face, at the retreating lights headed away from the accident scene.

  Robbie pulled his hand away and avoided my gaze. Did he know I just had a vision? He knew about my secret; psychic abilities to include ghost whispering and psychometry - the ability to read energy through touch—hence the vision I just witnessed. But the time to confront him would be later. I would not put him on the spot right then and there.

  Badger and Simon shook hands as well and we left. I kept that extra bit of information to myself. I didn’t know what it meant, but I intended to find out. He held something back. The car lights in the distance, moving away from the scene, disturbed Robbie. I needed to know why. I would return on my own and question him about it.

  We headed back toward the town center and market square, then into the residential area where Simon and I lived. Jason Krepp only lived a couple of blocks from us. Simon walked up to his house and rang the bell. Badger and I hung back on the sidewalk to wait. A young, tall, thin guy with long blond hair pulled back into a skinny, greasy ponytail answered the door. Pock-marks and scabs covered his acne-ravaged face. And something more, almost indefinable. It hid in the depths of his sunken cheeks and hollow eyes. Drugs. A tweaker, probably. The boys shook hands, but I slipped mine into my pockets. I did not want to shake hands with someone who picked at his face.

  When Simon said he wanted to talk about the party three years ago, Jason looked over his shoulder surreptitiously, then came out on the stoop and closed the door.

  “I don’t want to bring that night up in front of my mum,” he spoke softly. “She still hasn’t forgiven me for getting the van towed and going to jail. So, what do you want to know?”

  “No reason for you to know this, really,” Simon began, “but my mum and brother died that night in a car crash near the party.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Jason peeked over his shoulder. Shuffled his feet. Shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

  “Thanks,” said Simon. “I only wanted to know if you noticed anyone else in the area that night. Someone driving a blue car. A blue car hit us, you see. Maybe someone you knew from the party drove a blue car?”

  He shook his head. “No man, sorry. To be honest, I don’t remember much about that night, what with being tanked and all.”

  Chapter Seven

  Envy and Energy

  I didn’t do blood - the sight of it freaked me out. Too much sharing from dead victims and their wounds. Even the metallic odor turned my stomach. Which is why I quit my job at Butch’s Butcher Shop. I couldn’t work at the pub, either, because merely touching pint glasses made me a cheap drunk. So it seemed I forever waited on my friends to finish work.

  Fortunately, everyone had Sunday off. We didn’t have a whole lot of new information, but we needed to discuss the steps for the following week.

  A small cheery fire crackled in the snug fireplace. Riley pulled the murder map from the telly and rolled it across the table.

  “First,” said Riley, “I have the name of the breakdown company and driver. His name is Skip Shepard and he works for Village Towing.” She waved a piece of paper in the air. “Who wants it?”

  “All of us,” said Simon. “The girls and I can visit the office and try to get the timing information, and interview the driver as well. Cappy and Badger can check out the breakdown van to see if it looks like it’s been in an accident. See if the tow van is blue. Get paint scrapings if it looks dodgy.”

  “I can’t,” said Riley, “I have to watch the boys while mum works.” A small smile hovered around her lips. The suggestion from Simon that she join us was well received. And well played, I thought, my gaze slanted at Simon.

  “Right,” I said. “What are your schedules, then?” Everyone had the next afternoon off after school, except for Riley.

  “Second,” said Riley, waving another piece of paper. “A firefighter phoned in after a plea for witnesses on the telly a few days after the accident. He saw a blue van parked about a half mile from the accident. They received a call-out around 8:24 and noticed it parked near the fire station.”

  “We can stop there after the breakdown shop,” said Badger, taking the piece of paper.

  “It has to be Scott,” I said. “Should we interview him? Or wait for forensics on his Land Rover?”

  We looked to Simon. His case, his call.

  “Let’s wait,” said Simon. “He’s our biggest suspect. If the blue paint chips come back as a match, then we have our killer. We’ll give the evidence to Robbie and it will be over.”

  I could tell by the look on his face that it would never be over, though. We will have caught the killer, but it wouldn’t bring back his family. Amanda and Bryan were dead and he’d never get them back. But he lost his dad that day as well, when the world turned upside down. Richard became distant, disconnected. A non-participant in the life of his remaining son. I knew part of Simon hoped to win his father back when we found the killer. But I thought it went much deeper than that.

  “Right, then,” said Riley. “What do you have to report on your visits to D.S. Robbie O’Boyle and Jason Krepp?”

  “Robbie was actually on the scene that night,” said Badger. “He didn’t
have anything new for us, really. He said that Amanda and Bryan were already—” he glanced briefly at Simon “—gone when they arrived on the scene.”

  “And Jason?” she asked.

  “Nothing.” Simon shook his head.

  “What about you, Cappy?” I said. “Did you dig anything up about the party that night?”

  “Not yet,” said Cappy. “But there’s a party Saturday night. The same group of kids. I plan on goin’.”

  “I’ll go with you,” I said. “We’ll get more questions answered with two of us.”

  “No!” said Badger. “You can’t. That’s a rough crowd, anything could happen.”

  “I have to agree,” said Simon. “Those kids and parties have reputations—none of it good.”

  “We can all go, then,” I said.

  “No,” said Simon. “Badger and I would stick out like foxes in a chicken coop. They know us. They’d be suspicious.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of Indigo,” said Cappy. “She’ll be fine with me.”

  We left the snug with plans to meet the following day. Stopping at the front entrance to don our coats, I glanced at the menu board. Nothing. I sighed with relief and shook my head. No cryptic message was a good thing. No sign of the Soul Collector was even better.

  Watery sunshine accompanied us on the way home. The bulldog ghost met us halfway up the block. He found his own way home. I could swear he’d been watching and waiting for us to come by and play. He dropped the tennis ball at Simon’s feet, panting and waiting expectantly for him to throw it. Simon threw the ball up toward the mansion and the dog gave chase.

  We stopped in front of the house and looked up. No lights lit the second story window today.

  “She passed away three years ago,” said a voice to our right. Looking over, a little white-haired lady came down the walk next door. She wore a knee-length dress that nearly covered her knee-high stockings, under a knee-length button-down coat. The ensemble was topped with a hat, the daisy protruding having seen better days, and a black purse hooked in a death grip over her arm.

  “We wondered,” I said, as the lady approached. “It looks rather abandoned.”

  “Condemned, you mean,” said the lady. “That niece of hers inherited it and hasn’t kept it up. Sadie Cuttle would roll over in her grave if she saw what it’s come to.” She pointed to the For Sale sign in the yard. “No one is interested in buying it because it looks so bad.”

  Based on the ghostly face at the window, I guessed that Sadie Cuttle hadn’t rolled over in her grave at all.

  “Do I recall seeing a dog here?” asked Simon. “Whatever happened to that old bulldog?”

  “Oh she never owned a dog, luv. They frightened her, you see.”

  Simon nodded. “My mistake. I must be thinking of one street over.”

  “I’m Mrs. Dibley, by the way.”

  We introduced ourselves.

  “It’s nice to see young people interested in the old house. It was quite beautiful in its day. It’s a shame, the state it’s in.”

  The slobbery tennis ball rolled to Simon’s feet and he ignored it. Mrs. Dibley hadn’t noticed. Waving goodbye, she toddled off to tend to her errands.

  Simon threw the ball a few more times, then we continued on our way home.

  I jotted down the phone number from the For Sale sign. Perhaps I could find out more about the dog and Sadie Cuttle and get them crossed over. Kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. We couldn’t have the dog following us home every time we passed.

  “I wonder why the dog is there if it didn’t belong to her?” said Simon.

  “Not only didn’t belong to her, but she was afraid of them,” I added. “And she’s still there. She watches us every time we pass.”

  “That’s her putting on the light show?” asked Simon.

  “I assume so.” I would have to look into it further. Animals don’t usually have unfinished business, so why would a dog not cross over? And for that matter, why did Cleo, our ghost cat, still hang around?

  I don’t hate Mondays. Truly I don’t. But I pretty much hated that one. My spirits lifted when I spotted Badger across the school quad. He waved and headed toward me. I waved back, my heart singing like a meadowlark, sunshine parting the clouds and all that. Until it became apparent the buxom beauty nearby was his intended target. Someone feminine, in a skirt and heels, and legs as long as a giraffe’s. She ran up to him and hugged him. Even worse, he hugged her back. And looked really happy doing it.

  I looked down at my jeans over my curve-less body. Flat as a topography map of the Sahara. I hurried away before anyone could witness my disappointment. Okay, maybe disappointment didn’t exactly describe my reaction correctly. Jealousy might work better. Even envy. But disappointment definitely came in a close third.

  I left campus early with tears stinging my eyes and berated myself for falling in deep like with Badger. Because that’s all it could be. A schoolgirl crush. Next week, I’d fall in deep like with someone else. I pulled out my calendar for next week and wrote it on my schedule to be sure I didn’t forget.

  I had time before I met the others, so I went to see D.S. Robbie O’Boyle. I didn’t imagine his slight hesitation when we visited him the other day and I aimed to find out what it meant. I made my way through the police station and found Robbie at his desk.

  “Hi Robbie.”

  “Oh. Indigo.” He straightened a pile of papers on his desk, glanced at the clock, then opened a desk drawer and riffled around inside it. “What can I do for you today?”.He looked everywhere but at me. I came back alone and he didn’t have to be psychic to know why I returned.

  “I’d like to buy you lunch.” I hadn’t known I would say that. I think my subconscious self looked for a distraction. And I didn’t want to give him the chance to brush me off.

  He swallowed a sigh. Not very flattering to my already deflated ego. “Sure.” He relented. “But I’m paying.”

  I smiled. “How’s this supposed to work if I say I’m buying but you insist on paying?”

  We laughed.

  His eyes crinkled attractively when he smiled. Not as nice as Badger’s, but nice nonetheless. Maybe I’d fall in like with him next week. I sighed inwardly. And maybe our murderer would knock on our door and confess and bring his, or her, own handcuffs.

  We went to a nearby hole-in-the-wall called Luigi’s. They served Italian cuisine at a reasonable price, that even I could afford. Robbie made me laugh with outlandish stories from his childhood. I wondered if he tried to distract me on purpose. Had he seen my tear-stained eyes? Or did he know I suspected he withheld information?

  About to finish our meal, I took a deep breath and brought up the subject of my vision.“Robbie, I wanted to ask you something.”

  Worried eyes met mine over the table. “I thought there might be more than just a schoolgirl crush on a hunky older guy.”

  I laughed, reaching across to enfold his hand in mine. I looked down at our hands as the vision rolled quickly once again, the same as before. The accident scene and Robbie’s eyes watching receding lights down a dark road.

  Pulling away and trying to make sense of it, I looked up at the window. For a brief moment I thought I spotted Badger. But after blinking and clearing my head, he had gone. My imagination and schoolgirl crush conjured him. You’re seeing things again, Indigo Eady.

  I looked back at Robbie. He studied his hands. “Robbie, is there something you left out the other day when we came to see you?”

  After a brief silence, he nodded. “I knew you saw it. I just didn’t know if you read minds, as well.”

  “No. Of course not. Nobody can read minds. And even though I can read energy, it doesn’t take a psychic to see that something’s bothering you about the accident.”

  He looked up with a lopsided grin, something unfathomable hiding behind his eyes. “Are you sure you’re only sixteen?”

  “Almost seventeen. But enough of the delay tactics. Tell me,” I said.
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  He sighed deeply. “We came upon the car crash, like I said. Me still green behind the ears and my D.S. Cold, dark, wet. The road riddled with potholes.”

  I nodded. He already told us that part.

  “We just left a call to break up an underage party. We followed another police vehicle driven by D.S. Michael Potter. He left ahead of us.”

  I frowned.”What are you saying? The first police car may have…?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Car lights receded down the road. I couldn’t see the vehicle, only the lights.”

  I sat back, slightly stunned. Cappy suspected the police, but somehow I hadn’t believed it.

  “I notified my superiors of my concern. They thanked me and said they’d look into it. They made sure I understood that I shouldn’t speak of it to anyone. I never heard anything else about it.” He leaned across the table and whispered. “I have to assume they investigated and found nothing.”

  Chapter Eight

  Never on a Monday

  I headed to the Blind Badger, lost in thought. I could tell Robbie suspected Michael Potter hit Aunt Amanda’s car and then left the scene of the accident. As disturbing as it had been when Cappy brought it up, it was even more disturbing now that Robbie also suspected it.

  “Oy, Indigo. Where you going with yer ‘ead in the clouds?”

  I walked right by Cappy and the Blind Badger without noticing. Not only that, but I hadn’t checked the ginnel to see if the Soul Collector lurked. It could have been disastrous.

  I shook my head. “Sorry, Cappy. I had some disturbing news.”

  “Care to share it, luv?”

  I grinned. Cappy could always bring me out of a funk with his flirty way. Maybe I’d fall in like with him next week instead of Robbie. Heck, maybe I’d fall in like with both of them, then I wouldn’t like Badger so much.