SPIRIT OF CONSEQUENCE (A Spirit Walking Mystery Book 1) (11 page)

No answer.

“God help me, Dodge, but I’m falling in love with you,” I whispered.

Just then his phone started ringing. It must still be in the pants of his black jeans, since it was muffled. I got up and walked over to where he’d thrown them on the floor. Each time I tried to pick up the pants, my hands slid through them.

“Let me get those for you.” Dodge said behind me.

I jumped, swung around, and knocked into the chair. It fell over.

“Look at that,” Dodge exclaimed. “You made the chair fall over.”

“I did, didn’t I?”

“That’s great.”

The phone rang again.

Dodge looked at me. “Want to try and pick them up?”

“No, answer your phone.”

“Okay,” Dodge dug in the pockets of his jeans and answered his phone. “What? When? I’m on my way.”

As he pulled on his jeans, I asked, “What’s up?”

“Another woman’s been murdered.”

“Another prostitute?”

“Yes.” He pulled on his shirt.

“Street or escort?”

“It’s another escort.” He put on his shoulder holster and inserted his gun.

“Same agency?”

“No, a different one.” He sat down on the bed, put on and laced up his shoes. “Let’s go, Samantha.”

Chapter 11

A few minutes later we flew down California Street and turned right on Entertainment. The roads were filled with buses and cabs full of people rushing to work or home after the nightshift; even the sidewalks were full with people scurrying from one place to another.  They all stopped and stared as we raced down the street since Dodge had added a blue flashing light to the dashboard of his classic car.

He was on the phone talking to Dexter and Marge. He told them to meet him at the crime scene. He slowed as we came to a delivery truck that had double parked. Dodge laid on his horn until the truck driver came out, the lines of his face deep with anger, ready to scream at the horn blarer. When he noticed the blue flashing light, he quickly got in his truck, pulled out and turned down the next street.

On one corner, a taxi cut in front of us and Dodge slammed on his brakes and his horn at the same time.

I grabbed the dashboard and actually held on as we slid around the taxi. My entire body felt like a tightly wound coil, ready to spring. How could this be so exciting and unsettling at the same time? As Dodge flew around another car, I screamed, “Do you have to drive so fast?”

He raised his brows, then chuckled. “I thought you liked fast cars?”

“I do, but not around other cars.”

“I notice you’re holding on to the dashboard.”

“Fear, pure and simple.”

He gave me a cocky grin and his eyes sparkled. “I sense possibilities in that fear.”

I sat back, crossed my arms over my chest, and returned his smile with one of my own. “What? You’re going to hold a gun to my head and threaten to shoot me?”

“Nope, it wouldn’t do any good. You’re already dead, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” I laughed and then thought about it for a moment. Was that why he could see me? When I was in his apartment and thought he would kill himself, I was terrified. Was that it? Was terror the catalyst?

“Well, fear or not, are we almost there?” I asked.

“Yes. We’re going to the Seaside Escorts. They’re down close to Fisherman’s Wharf.”

I had seen the Seaside Escorts building on one of my many jaunts around the Wharf. Two huge mermaid statues marked the front of the building. It was hard to miss. “Who’s the victim?”

“Her name is Tiffany Grayson.”

“She was killed at the escort service?”

“Yes, in one of their back rooms.”

“Quiet killer.”

“Not necessarily. All the rooms are soundproof.”

“Well, they should know who saw her last.”

“No, she’s been sick and didn’t have any clients tonight.”

“He doesn’t make it easy, does he?”

“Who?”

“The guy who’s killing these women.”

“No. He’s not stupid.”

The car screeched to a halt in front of the Seaside Escort Service, where several squad cars were already parked.

Dodge got out and I joined him in front of the car. “Earphone,” I whispered under my breath.

He reached into his pocket and inserted his earpiece. “Okay?”

“Yeah, what do you want me to do?”

“Just wander around and see what’s going on.”

“Okay. Call me if you need to talk to someone.”

A red Porsche convertible pulled to the curb and Dexter and Marge got out. Dexter was dressed in his usual attire – baggy blue jeans and a patriotic shirt, this one red. Marge, on the other hand, wore tight acid washed jeans, red Lucchese cowboy boots, and a black t-shirt imprinted with SFPD across her chest.

Dexter frowned as he strolled toward us. “Who are you talking to?”

“Samantha,” Dodge said and smiled toward me.

“Who’s Samantha?” Marge asked.

“It’s his new girlfriend.” Dexter replied.

Marge raised her eyebrows. “Girlfriend?”

“Yeah, well, come on, let’s go in and check out the scene,” Dodge said to his two partners.

Dexter’s smile broadened and he put his arm around Dodge’s shoulder. “You didn’t deny that she’s your girlfriend, Dodge. That’s a step in the right direction.”

Dodge snickered, then turned his head and smiled at me again.

Both Dexter and Marge looked toward me too. Neither saw me.

“I’m starting to worry about you again, Dodge,” Dexter said in a low voice.

“I’m doing great, Dexter. Let’s go see what we’ve got.”

The three walked into the escort service. I followed behind them. It was as full of people as Allen’s apartment had been. I didn’t really want to see the dead body, it was another reminder that someone else had moved on and I hadn’t. Of course, now I wasn’t so sure I actually wanted to move on. I seemed to slowly be getting a handle on touching things, so maybe a ghost and a person could have some kind of relationship. Maybe?

I wandered through a door and into an office where a thick set, balding man sat at a desk using the phone. He had a flat, prize fighter nose, thin lips, goatish chin beard, and blue eyes, fraught with trepidation. I slipped inside the man. It was the only way I could hear both sides of his conversation.

“The cops are already here,” he screeched. “What do you want me to tell them?”

“As little as possible,” replied a high-pitched male voice.

“I know that but Tiffany’s dead and the cops will take a close look at the business no matter what I do or say.”

“Are the drugs we were supposed to deliver to our distributers still in the building?” the man asked.

“They won’t find them. I hid the drugs before I called the cops. I stuck it in the laundry room. There’s no reason for them to look in the machines.”

There was a knock on the door.

The man on the phone said, “I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later.” He hung up the phone, took a deep breath, blew it out slowly and said, “Come in.”

Dodge walked in, flipped open his badge, and extended his hand. “Inspector Benson.”

When the heavyset man stood, I was left on the seat. He shook Dodge’s hand, and then pointed to the chair in front of the desk. “My name is Ray Anderson. Have a seat, Inspector.”

Dodge nodded toward the man, the signal for me to get inside, then sat and said, “Can you fill me in on Tiffany’s last twenty-four hours?”

“Of course, but when can my girls get back to work? Time is money after all.”

“Wait a minute, Dodge,” I said, slipping my head out of the man’s chest. Dodge didn’t even flinch.

“Hang on a minute, Mr. Anderson. That’s my phone.” Dodge touched his earpiece. “Inspector Benson.”

“Is that for me or did your phone actually ring?” I asked.

“Of course it’s for you. What do you want?”

“Okay. He’s hidden something in the machines in the laundry room.”

“How do you know?”

“I overheard him talking on the phone before you came in.”

“Anything else?”

“Nope.”

“Then back in and let’s get started.”

“Okay.” I pulled my head back. A strange feeling came over me. A shiver scurried up my spine and my stomach recoiled. I didn’t like Mr. Anderson. His body temperature was elevated, but his pulse and breathing were steady and slow. Not a normal combination. Mr. Anderson was slick.

Dodge stood. “I’ll be back in just a minute Mr. Anderson.” He went to the door, opened it and spoke to someone outside. He closed the door and returned to his seat. “Thanks for your patience, Mr. Anderson.

“No problem, Inspector.”

“Okay, tell me about Tiffany.”

“She was a nice girl.” No changes in his body, so not a lie.

“How long has she been an escort?”

“She’s been working here for five years.”

“And before that?”

Mr. Anderson reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a file folder. “Do you want me to copy her employment records?”

“Thanks. That would be very helpful.”

Mr. Anderson pushed a button on his desk and a very young woman came into the room, short, skinny, with long dark hair, maybe Latina. If she was eighteen, I’m from the planet Mars. “Amanda, would you make a copy of these for the Inspector?”

“Sure, Boss.” She took the file and left the room.

Dodge frowned at Mr. Anderson. “How old is that girl?”

“She turned eighteen a few months ago,” Mr. Anderson replied nonchalantly, but his heart skipped a single beat. I stuck my hand out and gave Dodge the thumbs-down symbol. He was definitely lying.

“I’d like to see her employment record, too.”

“Okay, she’s going to turn eighteen in a few months. She doesn’t do any escort work, only filing and secretarial jobs.”

I stuck my head out. “He’s lying through his teeth. He’s a scum bag and making my skin itch. I don’t want to stay too long in his body.”

“Okay.” Dodge nodded. I assumed it was for me, so I slipped back into Mr. Anderson. Dodge continued, “Tell me about Tiffany’s day.”

“She had the flu the last few days, so she wasn’t working.”

His body was all mixed up, calm but slightly upset at the same time. A hand signal wasn’t going to work, so I stuck my head out, again. “Okay, this is too weird. I think part of what he is saying is the truth, but the rest isn’t. He’s afraid, but confident, too. Does it make any sense to you?”

“Of course. She wasn’t working as an escort. She couldn’t if she had the flu. Was she doing anything else for you or the business?”

“Okay, I got it,” I said and then slipped back into Mr. Anderson.

“She was helping Amanda with the filing.”

Heart rate edged up a bit. A lie, out went the hand signal.

“Tiffany didn’t seem like the secretarial type.” Dodge said, and leaned forward in the chair.

“Well,” Mr. Anderson chuckled, nervously. “She wasn’t very good at it, but it was better than just having her lie around and do nothing. Time is money after all,” he repeated.

“I’m sure,” Dodge said. “Is there a back entrance to the escort service?”

“Of course. It’s in the fire code. We have to have three exits on this floor.”

“Where are they located?”

“The front door, then two in the back: one at the end of the hall and one here.” He pointed to a door in the back of his office.

“Do you have any surveillance on the doors?”

“Oh, no. That would invade the privacy of our clients.”

I stuck my head out. “That’s another partial truth. We need a new signal for this. I’m getting a headache popping in and out of him.”

Dodge narrowed his eyes. “Come on, Mr. Anderson. I know for a fact that you have a video camera on the front door.”

“I do not.”

Dodge raised his brows, shrugged, and put his hands up. “Okay, I can get a search warrant and tear this place apart. It’s a crime scene after all.”

Mr. Anderson shook his head vehemently. “Okay, okay. We do have one on the front door. It’s for my girls’ protection.”

Another lie.

“And maybe for a little blackmail?” Dodge suggested.

“No!” Mr. Anderson bellowed. His pulse rate shot through the roof and it was like being in a sauna in his body.

I slid totally out of him. “He’s a liar and I don’t like him. He gives me the creeps. If I could I’d go take a shower.”

“Let’s just see the video, Mr. Anderson.”

Anderson lowered his head and stood up. “The video equipment is in the room across the hall.”

Dodge stood. “Then let’s go.”

Dodge followed Anderson out of the room. I turned left in the hallway and went in search of someone nicer to invade. Maybe one of the girls knew something about Tiffany’s death. I called over my head to Dodge, “I’m going to go and visit the girls.”

Dodge touched his earpiece. “Inspector Benson. Okay, give me a minute and I’ll catch up with you.” He called out, “Dexter?”

Dexter stuck his head out of one of the rooms. “Yeah?”

“Can you sit with Mr. Anderson and look at the video from the front of the building? See if anything pops out at you. Either way, get a copy of the entire tape.”

Anderson started to protest, but Dodge patted him on the back and said, “Thanks for your help and we’ll just forget about Amanda for the moment.”

Mr. Anderson lowered his head further and he and Dexter went into the video room.

Dodge trotted down the hall and joined me. We walked together into a room where six girls sat around a large rectangular table and a few leaned against the outer wall. It was a bare room, no decorations, just the table and chairs, obviously for meals when they weren’t working. I hadn’t seen this many women in skimpy lingerie, since I perused a Victoria’s Secret halo-magazine. A few looked high, their bodies emaciated as they paced like caged animals. A couple of girls yawned with boredom, but most were angry, their mouths tightened into deep scowls. Marge stood by the doorway when we came in.