Seeing the Light (A Marie Jenner Mystery Book 1) (43 page)

“He’s tanked.” It was Farley’s voice, and even though I knew he was still in the other room I could hear him as though he was standing right next to me. Almost like he’d spoken in my head. As I wrestled James back into bed, I wondered how he’d done that. Spoken in my head, without moving.

“You go to sleep now,” I said to James. “You’ll feel better when you wake up.”

“I hope so. My head really hurts.” He opened one eye, and then the other. “I have something to tell you, Marie. A secret.”

Not now.

“Just go to sleep, James—”

“I was working for my uncle, you know. When I took that job at the Palais. The handyman job was a cover. So I could get the information about Latterson, and then get out. But then, I met you.”

“Oh.” I didn’t know what else to say. I honestly felt frozen.

“Yeah, I met you, and everything changed. I’m sorry I lied. Not a good way to start a relationship, is it?” His smile faded as he fell asleep.

I stared down at him and tried to digest what he’d just said. He’d lied to me about his job and his uncle. And he’d used me to gather the information he’d needed for his case. He’d lied to me.

And I’d lied to him. He was right. That was no way to start a relationship. I gently closed the door and settled down on the floor beside Farley again.

“Can you hear me, Farley?” I was afraid he couldn’t, and that I’d lose him, that he’d end up wandering around, trying to find someone else like me, who could do a better job. Stuck, for all time.

“Cut Jimmy boy some slack,” he whispered.

“What?”

“The big hero.” He turned his head and stared at me, his eyes glowing intensely. “He was doing a job. And he finally did come clean.”

“Oh, so you heard that?” I looked over at the closed door. “I don’t know. He lied, Farley. How can I trust him?”

“Figure out a way. He’s going to do that for you, when you finally come clean.” He smiled. “He cares for you. A lot.”

“He does, doesn’t he?” I asked, a shiver running down my spine. “All right. I’ll try, Farley. I’ll try.”

“Good.” He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again, staring at me. “Did I tell you about the dead guy?”

This time I could barely hear his voice, though I was right beside him. “Yes, you did.”

“I think you should help him. He was crucified. Down by a church. Should be easy to find him.”

I almost laughed. “Yeah, probably, but I honestly don’t know how much help I am to the dead, Farley. Look at what I put you through.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” he said, then laughed. “Well, maybe it was, but promise me you’ll help that guy out. He really looked like he could use a hand.”

“I promise I’ll try,” I said. And I meant it.

“Thank you.” He leaned back, looking exhausted.

“Can I ask you something?” I asked, afraid he’d say no.

“Yes,” he said, his voice sounding like wind over water.

“What did you see? When you disappeared?”

He stared up at me, his mouth working. Then he closed his eyes, and tears clung like glowing embers to his lashes.

“I saw my grandfather. He looked after me, when my mom took off. He was a mean old man—and he was all I had.” He opened his eyes, and the pain in them was so real, I felt like I was suffocating.

“I let him die,” he sobbed. “I couldn’t save him.”

“When did this happen?”

“I was six.”

“Oh Farley. You were a baby.” I could feel my heart breaking—literally breaking—for this man. “His death was not your fault.”

“That sure as shit determined the way I lived the rest of my life,” he whispered. “Didn’t it?”

He glowed more brightly, and tiny flecks of red and orange began to whirl in his aura. “I decided then and there I would never let anyone get hurt on my watch. I would save everyone.”

“Even if they didn’t need to be saved,” I whispered.

Rose had been right. He didn’t need closure with her. His grandfather was the key. I had been completely wrong.

“Yeah,” he said, and closed his eyes, his aura gaining strength. “Even when they didn’t need to be saved.” He chuckled. “I guess I was a pretty shitty knight in shining armour, wasn’t I?”

“Not all the time. You saved my butt, Farley. And Helen Latterson. You saved her too.”

“Yeah. I did do that, didn’t I?”

He nodded, and the colours flared as the white of his aura brightened and stretched. I could feel that he was ready. Finally, Farley was ready to move on. There was only one more question I had to ask him.

“What do you want to do now?”

He smiled, the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen on that old man’s face.

“I want to start again,” he said. “I missed a lot this time, I think. If I could, I’d start over.”

“Then you probably will,” I said as his aura ran over my hands and up my arms, like electrified silk.

“I feel good,” he said, and his glow brightened even more.

“I know.”

“I wish I’d had more time to—you know—get to know you.”

“And I’m going to miss you, Farley.” I meant that, with all my heart.

His aura had reached my face, and I bathed in its light for a moment, before pulling myself away. This was not for me, no matter how good it felt. This was for Farley alone.

“Promise me one more thing, will you?” he asked, his voice getting lighter, less substantial by the second. “Make sure you deal with your dad. Because I’d guess that no matter how much he fucked up, he still loves you. Just like I love my Rosey.”

“My dad?” I stared at him, unable to move, unable to think past that point. “My issues with—”

“Your dad. Yeah.” He smiled. “I know about that stuff. I can tell you’re mad at him. Don’t let his mistakes bind you so tightly you can’t live. Rose didn’t, and I’m proud of her for that. She’s a good kid. You’d like her, I think.”

“I probably would,” I said, and touched my head to his one last time, letting my strength run to him so that he could finally move on. “Thank you, Farley. Thank you.”

Then Farley saw the light. And it was beautiful.

Marie:
Life after Farley

I stayed on the floor as Farley’s light flickered away to nothing. I knew there were things I had to do, but I couldn’t convince myself to get up.

That changed fairly quickly when the outer door opened and a woman stepped into the room.

“I’m sorry, we’re not open for business,” I yelled as I scrambled to get up off the floor. The woman didn’t move, just stood, framed in the doorway, until I was on my feet. I stared at her, and couldn’t believe who I saw.

“Andrea Strickland?”

It was Ian Henderson’s old secretary from the Palais, appearing perfect, as usual. I was wearing Salvation Army blue jeans and one of James’ sweatshirts. “What are you doing here?”

“Mary?” she asked and she smiled at me, all cool perfection, as I tried to pull some semblance of order to my hair, then gave it all up. She wasn’t noticing me, anyhow. She was trying to make certain the waning light from the window was catching her profile just so.

“It’s Marie,” I said. She shrugged.

“I didn’t know you got a job here. How cool! Isn’t Jimmy a sweetie?”

Andrea held her pose one more moment, to be sure I saw how perfect she was, then walked over and gave me a quick hug.

“I heard you ended up in the hospital after the explosion. Wasn’t that just terrible? Did you see that horrible woman attack me? I almost got killed and she attacked me!” She sighed theatrically and sat down in the chair in front of the desk.

“Is Jimmy in his office? I have to talk to him, I’ve got a situation brewing and I need his advice.”

She posed dramatically for a moment more. When I didn’t react appropriately, she frowned.

“So, can I talk to him or what?”

“Are you talking about Jimmy Lavall?” I sat down in the chair behind the receptionist desk. It was a good thing I did, too, because my legs began shaking. I needed to drink water, a lot of it, very soon. But first, I had to deal with Andrea.

“Well, yes. Who else would you think I’d want to talk to?”

“You can’t talk to Jimmy.”

“Why not? Is he out of town? God, that guy goes out of town more often than I change my underwear!” She got up and sashayed impatiently in front of the desk. “When’s he coming back?”

“He’s not coming back.” I gestured to the chair she had so recently vacated. The water and everything else was going to have to wait. “Sit down, please. I have something I have to tell you.”

After I told Andrea that Jimmy the Elder was dead, and Andrea had a cry, I persuaded her to tell me why she needed a private investigator.

“It’s not really for me this time, it’s for my cousin,” Andrea sniffed, dabbing at her eyes. “She got herself into a bunch of trouble, and I needed Jimmy to help her out.” That brought on a fresh round of tears, and I handed her the entire box of tissues instead of doling them out one at a time.

“What happened?”

Andrea dug around in her oversized purse and pulled out a newspaper with “Death by Crucifixion!” emblazoned across the front page. She opened up the paper, and placed it on the desk in front of me.

“The police think she’s involved, somehow. In this.” She pointed at the huge headline, and then at the picture of the victim. “They think she killed him. She’s a nut bar, but she wouldn’t kill anybody. I’m sure of it.”

I stared at the picture of the tree, which was situated in front of Holy Trinity Church, not four blocks from here. I realized this was the place Farley had told me about, before he moved on. The ghost Farley had seen was the guy who’d been murdered. And Farley had told me exactly where he was.

“Andrea, I know the perfect person to take this case.” I tried to smile as I spoke, though I felt like I was talking through cotton, like I was suddenly stretched as thin as spider web. I needed to hydrate desperately.

“Oh, who? Somebody good, I hope, because my cousin is in it deep.”

“It’s the guy who now owns this agency. It’s Jimmy’s nephew, James.”

“Oh, isn’t that cute!” Andrea’s mouth quirked up. “He won’t have to change the name on the door or anything. Is he any good?”

I thought of James lying in the other room, his head swaddled in bandages, trying to sleep off the smack to the head he received in his last case, and I snorted. It made me feel better. Closer to normal. Whatever that is.

“He’s the best money can buy.” I glanced down at the headline, and then over at her, trying for a sprightly smile. “And he has a good team.”

“So, do you think he’ll take the case?”

When he learns how to be a detective, he will
, I thought.

“Yes, he probably will.”

I glanced back at the closed door that separated James from us, and hoped he’d keep quiet a bit longer. “He’ll be back later this evening. We’ll get in touch with you, then.”

“Wonderful!” She stood and hugged me again, before heading for the door. “I’m so glad to see you. We must do margaritas again, soon.”

Then she was gone, a not-so faint whiff of her perfume hanging in the air.

I walked over and grabbed a glass, pouring myself some tepid water, and downing it as quickly as I could. As I poured myself a second glass, I glanced back at the newspaper article, and shrugged.

“This one will be easier than Farley. After all, I know where the dead guy is, and we know he’s been murdered. All I have to do is go down to the church and talk to him. I mean, how hard can that be?”

I drank most of the next glass, and sloshed over to the desk. I was doing this because both James and I needed some money so we could pull our lives back together. Oh, and I had made that promise to Farley. I was determined to follow through on that. Those were the two big reasons I’d agreed to take this job.

After that, I’m done. After that, it’s a normal life.

I mean it this time.

Acknowledgements

Wow. Where to start? I guess at the beginning. My thanks to the 3-Day Novel contest, where I met Farley Hewitt and Marie Jenner for the first time. (This was also where I learned how much I love caramel apples!) I didn’t win, but I won. You know?

To Billie Milholland and Ryan McFadden. It feels like we’ve been friends forever. You two held my hand through the many iterations of this story (plus all that other crazy stuff we tried) and kept me more or less sane. More or less. I don’t know what I’d do without you.

I have so many friends in the writing community, I barely know where to start. But some of you had a direct impact on this book, so... Aaron Humphrey, thanks for pointing out Marie needed a real voice in this story. You’re the reason I ended up writing it this way! To the rest of the Cult of Pain, thanks for helping me beat the beginning into submission. Chad Ginther, thanks for telling me what genre this story was, for real. Best book whisperer, ever! Janice MacDonald and Randy Williams, you are both so giving of your time and your expertise, we in the genre writing scene in Edmonton are lucky to have you. (And my launch dress is going to look spectacular!) To Robert J Sawyer, thanks for your support for all these years. You’re a good teacher and a good friend.