Buried Innocence - A Mary O'Reilly Paranormal Mystery - Book Thirteen (Mary O'Reilly Paranormal Mystery Series) (8 page)

 
“How long are we going to have to wait?” Joey
Amoretti growled softly as he and his wife, Gigi, sat in the run-down diner on
the edge of Clinton.

Gigi reached across
the table, for all intents and purposes looking like a loving and concerned
wife, and placed her hand on top of her husband’s. Squeezing tightly and
embedding a fingernail into his fleshy palm, she smiled tightly. “People are
watching us, sweetheart,” she said softly, placing special emphasis on the last
word. “We don’t want to draw any attention to ourselves.”

He returned the
smile and endured the pain. “You’re right, darling,” he replied softly. “I was
merely concerned about their safety.”

Finally, the door
at the far end of the room opened and a young, very flustered looking couple
darted into the diner. They scanned the room quickly, and when they saw Joey
and Gigi, a glimmer of relief raced across their faces. Hands clasped together,
they hurried across the room towards the Amoretti table.

“They didn’t bring
the kid,” Joey whispered through tightened lips. “What the hell?”

“
Shhhh
, Pastor Amoretti,” Gigi warned.

The couple pulled
up chairs. “I’m so sorry we’re late,” the woman explained, her voice breathy.
“It’s been one of those days.”

“Oh my dear, I hope
everything is fine,” Gigi said, a slight southern accent coloring her words.

The woman nodded.
“Yes, we’re fine…now,” she replied. “We had another issue with Nadia, our
daughter. She overheard us discussing her re-homing, and she ran away.”

“Ran away?” Joey
exclaimed, nearly jumping out of his chair.

“Darling,” Gigi
said, putting her hand on Joey’s arm. “I know you’re concerned about the young
woman, but I’m sure her parents would not be here with us unless she was safe.”

She turned and
smiled at the young couple. “He is so concerned about the youth of our
country,” she explained. “She is fine, isn’t she?”

“Yes. Yes, of
course,” the young man said. “We found her walking towards the bus station. We
put her in the car and brought her back home.”

Joey clenched his
fists under the table, trying to maintain his composure. “But aren’t you afraid
she’ll run again?” he asked, controlling his voice so it merely sounded
concerned.

The young woman
shook her head. “No, because we promised her that we would postpone our
decision to re-home her,” she said. “It seems she really does care for us. She
just has a difficult time showing her true feelings.”

“But we had an
agreement,” Joey said, his teeth clenched in a smile as he contemplated the
loss of income this young woman would have provided. “I was so looking forward
to bringing this troubled child into our fold.”

“Well, it’s just
not going to happen,” the young man replied, protectively placing his arm
around his wife’s shoulders. “We came here to let you know that we are going to
keep Nadia.”

Joey took a deep
breath, his face becoming slightly mottled as he tried to contain his anger.
“You do realize, young man, that the authorities don’t look kindly on people
who don’t honor their contracts,” he said, leaning forward over the table and
lowering his voice menacingly. “And DCFS doesn’t approve of families who are
willing to give their children away.”

“Well, I’m sure
that if the authorities come and visit us about Nadia, we will be sure to tell
them about the good minister and his wife who are willing to take in a number
of wayward children,” the young man replied, coldly meeting Joey’s eyes. “They
might want to interview some of those children just to be sure everything is as
joyful as you profess.”

Joey slowly sat
back in his chair, trying not to let the young father see the fear beating in
his heart. “I am simply concerned about Nadia,” he said, a smile spreading
across his face while he nervously smoothed his moustache. “I just want you…both
of you…to be sure you still want the responsibility of raising this troubled
child.”

“Yes. Yes, we do,”
the young mother said, smiling at Joey. “Thank you for your concern. But we
understand now that we just needed to slow down and try to understand each
other. And you will be happy to know that if not for your intercession, we
would have never had the chance to truly understand our daughter.”

“Well, isn’t that
wonderful, dear,” Gigi inserted before Joey could say another word. “It’s as if
we were sent to you from God to strengthen your little family. And we are so
pleased to have been employed as angelic messengers to bless your lives.”

The young father
rolled his eyes as he sat back in his chair. “Well, bottom line,” he said.
“We’re keeping Nadia. We appreciate your offer, but the deal is off.”

“Well, we couldn’t
be happier,” Gigi said
,
reaching across the table and
clasping the young man’s hand in both of hers. “I can tell by the light in your
eyes that you love your daughter, and truly, that fills our hearts with joy.”

Pulling her hands
back, she placed her hand on her husband’s shoulder and stood up. “Well, we
shouldn’t be keeping you away from your child any longer,” she said. “God Bless
You. Come along, dear. Our work here is done.”

“Yeah, God Bless you,”
Joey muttered, getting to his feet. “I hope your family will be very happy.”

“We will,” the
young man said.

Gigi slipped her
arm through Joey’s and pulled him away from the table before he could reply.

“Little prick,”
Joey muttered as they walked to the door.

“Shut up, Joey,”
Gigi whispered sharply. “We’ve got to get out of the damn parking lot before
they think about writing down our license plate and giving that to the cops.”

Joey glanced over
his shoulder to see the young man watching them with suspicious eyes. “Let’s
get the hell outta here.”

Mary tried not to
tap her fingers on the countertop as she waited for the search engine to come
up with results. The young police officer sat calmly at his desk systematically
flipping through a stack of mail and placing it in mail slots on the wall.

“I don’t have a
good feeling about this,” Mike said.

“I’m sure we’ll be
getting an answer in just a minute,” the desk officer said as he moved away
from her to the back of the room. “The system has been slow lately.”

Mary nodded and
smiled brightly. “No problem,” she said. “I appreciate your help.”

The door opened
behind her, and Mary was surprised to see two uniformed officers with their
guns drawn entering the area.

“Whoa,” Mike said.
“I guess honesty is not the best policy.”

Mary pressed her
back against the counter, keeping her hands in plain view. “Um, I think there’s
been a mistake,” Mary said.

“She said that a
missing person was dead but no one else would know it,” the officer reported.
“She admitted that she killed him.”

“I did not,” Mary
argued.

“You asked me if I
believed in ghosts,” he said. “That means you killed him.”

“No, that means I
saw his ghost,” Mary replied.

“Ma’am?” one of the
officers asked. “Did you really say you saw his ghost?”

“Mary, think before
you speak,” Mike cautioned, looking back and forth between Mary and the two
police officers with guns.

Exhaling slowly,
Mary met the officer’s eyes. “Yes, officer, I did say that,” she replied. “And,
unfortunately, he could not remember his last name.”

“That’s not really
what I meant,” Mike exclaimed. “These guys have guns, Mary.”

The door opened
again, and this time a woman dressed in a white polo shirt and navy blue slacks
with a gold badge on her belt walked in. She quickly glanced around the room
and then took a good look at Mary. “Aren’t you Chief Alden’s wife, from
Freeport?” she asked.

“Oh, good, the
cavalry,” Mike said.

Mary nodded.
“Guilty as charged, Chief Chase.”

“And didn’t you
used to be a Chicago police officer?” she continued.

“Yes, I was,” Mary
answered.

“So would you mind
explaining to me what’s going on here?” she asked and then turned to her
officers. “I think you can put away your weapons, officers. I can personally
vouch for Mrs. Alden.”

“Finally, someone with
a little sense,” Mike said, and then he studied the chief’s face. “Wait, I
think I know her.”

The officers
quickly holstered their weapons and stood at ease. Then the chief turned back
to Mary. “You were going to explain.”

“I believe your
desk officer got the wrong impression from an answer I gave him when he was
doing a missing persons search for me,” she said. “He thought I had killed the
subject.”

“And why would he
think that?” she asked.

“Because when he
asked me if the subject was deceased, I told him that he was but his records
wouldn’t show it.”

“And how did you
come by that information?” she asked.

Mary sighed softly.
“I saw his ghost,” she said.

Mike groaned
loudly. “Really, Mary?” he said. “Did you not remember that answer has not
really worked twice today?”

Chief Chase studied
Mary for a moment without saying a word. Finally, she nodded. “Why don’t you
join me in my office, Mrs. Alden,” she suggested. “And we can discuss this in
private.”

“Could I get the
search results before we leave?” Mary asked.

Chief Chase shook
her head. “No, we’ll leave those here for now,” she said.

Mary followed the
chief down a narrow hall to her office. The room was not as large as Bradley’s
office, and the equipment not nearly as new. But Mary realized Galena had a
fraction of the population of Freeport.

“Please, have a
chair,” Chief Chase offered, pointing to a very uncomfortable-looking metal
chair with rust-colored plastic cushions on the other side of her desk.

Mary complied
immediately, folding her hands on her lap and patiently waiting for the first
question.

“So you believe you
can see ghosts?” the chief asked.

Mary shook her head
slightly and saw the look of relief of the chief’s face. “No, I don’t just
believe
I can see ghosts,” Mary replied.
“I
can
see ghosts.”

“Yeah, good job,
Mary,” Mike said, slipping through the wall and standing next to Mary. “Always
stay with a winning strategy.”

Chief Chase sat
back in her chair and studied Mary’s calm face. “That’s an unusual response,”
she finally said.

Mary smiled. “Yes,
it is,” she said. “And I know what most people think when they find out about
my…unique ability. And believe me, there have been many times in my life when I
would much rather not have this particular gift, but that’s the way it goes.”

“I’ve got it,” Mike
said. “I do know her. I dated her.”

Surprised, Mary
turned to Mike. “You dated her?” she asked, and then, recalling where she was,
she covered her mouth with her hands.

“I’m sorry?” the
chief asked. “Who were you just speaking with?”

“Um, this might
sound strange, but do remember Mike Richards?” she asked. “He was a fireman in
Freeport.”

“Yes, I remember
Mike,” she said, the pleasant look on her face darkening. “We dated a few
times, and then he never returned my call.”

Mary turned to
Mike, a look of astonishment on her face. “Really?” she asked.

She turned back to
the woman across the desk from her. “Actually, you might not have heard,” she
said. “But Mike died a couple of years ago.”

The chief stood up.
“Mike’s dead?” she exclaimed. “No, I didn’t know.”

Mary nodded. “It
actually turned out that he was murdered,” she said.
“Poisoned.”

“So that’s why he
never called me?” she asked.

“Yeah, not really,”
Mike replied. “But we can sure tell her that to make her feel better.”

“Mike is here,
right now,” Mary said. “And he told me that I can tell you that his death was
the reason he didn’t call you.”

“Way to lie without
lying, Mary,” Mike said, clapping his hands.

“How do I know
you’re telling the truth?” Chief Chase asked.

“Her first name is
Chelsea. She likes old movies, and she has a tiny heart tattoo on her left
cheek,” he said with a fond smile.

Mary looked at the
woman across from her. “She doesn’t have a tattoo on her cheek,”

Chelsea turned
bright red, and Mike chuckled. “Her other cheeks, Mary,” he explained.

“Oh,” Mary said,
biting her lower lip in embarrassment and looking at Chelsea. “I’m sorry. That
was embarrassing.”

“How did you know
about my…,” she paused for a moment and cleared her throat.
“My
tattoo?”

“Mike told me,” she
replied. “He told me that your first name is Chelsea, although I could have
remembered that from the first time we met. I didn’t, sorry, but that really
doesn’t prove anything. He said you like old movies, and he told me about your
tattoo.”

“Ask him where he
took me for our first date,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest and
raising her eyebrow in challenge.

“So, Mike, where
did you take her?” Mary asked.

“I hate those kinds
of questions, Mary,” he complained. “Why do all women think that men can
remember stuff like that?”

“Think, Mike, it’s
important,” Mary urged him.

“
What color dress did I wear when you first
saw me
?” Mike asked in falsetto. “
How
did I do my hair?
No one gives a guy credit for remembering a girl’s name.”

“Mike, you don’t
get points for remembering a woman’s name,” Mary lectured. “A woman wants to
think she was memorable, not just another flash in the pan. I can’t believe you
don’t remember your first date with her.”

Chelsea’s mouth
dropped open, and she stared at Mary. “It would be just like him to forget
where we went.”

“Well, I remember
that we had ribs together and you let me lick the sauce off your—”

“Mike, too much
information,” Mary called, and then she turned to Chelsea. “He does remember
you ate ribs together, and it got messy.”

Chelsea nodded and
sighed softly. “Good old Mike.”

“Yeah, good old
Mike,” Mary agreed. “So, Chelsea, how about those search results?”