SPIRIT OF CONSEQUENCE (A Spirit Walking Mystery Book 1) (3 page)

“No, I was busted back to patrolman because that dignitary filed a complaint against me.”

“Why?”

“He had the audacity to hand me his drug pipe as he exited his limo. I threw him in handcuffs and hauled his ass down to the station.”

“Okay, I know I don’t understand a lot about police work, but isn’t it your job to arrest people who use illegal drugs?”

Dodge shook his head and mumbled, “Diplomatic immunity.”

“And you hate being a patrolman so much that you decided to kill yourself?”

“I wasn’t going to kill myself,” he said, but wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“It sure looked like it to me.”

“I just had a bad night, that’s all,” his tone was low, almost a whisper.

“What happened?”

He glared at me, got up, poured himself a huge cup of coffee, and drank the entire cup. Then he stared at me.

“Waiting for me to disappear?”

“Yes.” He poured another cup of coffee.

“Who’s Cynthia?” I asked

He gulped his coffee down, then looked over the top of the mug at me.

“I’m going to disappear anyway, right? Why not talk to me?”

He shrugged.

“Who’s Cynthia?”

“She was my wife.”

“Did she leave you because you were busted down to a patrolman?”

“No,” he shook his head and frowned at me.

“She died?”

He nodded.

Was that why he wanted to kill himself? To join her? It didn’t work that way. My parents were killed in a plane crash. When I died, I was excited because I thought I’d see them again. I couldn’t find them. They had moved on, but I hadn’t. “Was she sick?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

He put his head into his hands.

I wished I could reach out and touch him but I couldn’t. “I’m sorry.”

Dodge looked up at me. His eyes filled with tears but his body was tense with anger. “She was killed.” Then he refilled his coffee mug and drank the entire mug.

Three cups of coffee was a lot of caffeine, but it wasn’t going to help him. “I’m not sure the coffee’s going to work.”

“Why?”

“I’m not exactly a hallucination and you’re not asleep.”

“What?” He raised both eyebrows and crinkled up his face.

“I’m a ghost.” I shrugged.

The cup slipped from his hand and shattered on the floor.

Chapter 3

Dodge didn’t bother to clean up the mess. He marched down the hall to his bedroom.

As I ran along behind him, I tried to talk to him, “Well, I am and…”

He put his hands over his ears and sang the “Star Spangled Banner” at the top of his lungs.

He slammed his bedroom door in my face. I just walked through it. No big accomplishment for me. He glanced back, scowled, then put his hands back on his ears and continued the song.

When he pulled off his shirt, I gasped. God, he was gorgeous - all muscles and thick black hair covering his chest. I think he heard me gasp because he sang louder. He went into his bathroom and shut the door. Everyone deserves privacy in the bathroom, so I wasn’t going to follow him.

The water started running and he crooned away, switching from one patriotic song to another. I decided to wait for him to come out. The room was decorated in dark oak furniture and in the middle sat a huge four-poster bed. On top of the dresser were several framed photographs. One was of an older woman, Dodge, a man a few years younger than him, and a much younger girl, maybe his mother and siblings? Another was of the same woman, much younger, and a man, possibly his mom and dad. The smiling woman from the silver-framed picture wasn’t anywhere in the room.

I sat down on his bed and sank right in. It was so soft and comfortable that I lay down. I don’t really need to sleep but I enjoyed being enveloped in his thick green comforter.

A few minutes later, Dodge came into the room. His hair was wet and slicked back; it glistened in the light that shimmered through the window. He wasn’t wearing anything but a strategically wrapped white towel. My heart skipped several beats. Dodge didn’t even look at me, he just strolled over to his closet and grabbed a uniform wrapped in plastic, obviously recently picked up from the cleaners. The tequila was out of his system. I was alone again.

My eyes watered and a single tear fell down my cheek. This was new -- I’d never cried before. When I tried to wipe the tear, my hand went through my skull. It would have been so nice to have someone to talk to but I guess it wasn’t meant to be. I sat up, slid my feet onto the floor, and stood. Dodge was fully dressed and sitting on the end of the bed slipping on his shoes.

I stood next to him. A scent of mint wafted from his wet hair and assaulted my senses. I drew in a long breath, savoring and imprinting the memory of him. “Well Dodge, it was very nice meeting you and talking to you, even if it was just for a few minutes.”

He tied his shoes.

Wait a minute. Shouldn’t he be at least looking around for me? No one sees a ghost and then when they disappear, acts like nothing ever happened. Then a thought occurred to me and I smiled. He was ignoring me. How fun! What would it take to break through his demeanor? Changing my outfits worked before, would it again? I changed into a skin tight red leather miniskirt, white tube top, and four-inch red stiletto heels.

He stood and walked toward the door.

Now what? I ran around and got in front of him. Maybe that outfit was too much? Something more subtle, but still sexy. I went for a peasant-style spring dress, off the shoulder, cameo broach, and a white straw floppy hat with a matching band.

His body tensed.

Success! I smiled and waved my arms in front of him. “You can still see me, can’t you, Dodge?”

“No,” he said, his tone low and stern.

“Whoops, you’re not supposed to answer if you don’t see or hear me.”

“If I see and hear you, then I’m unbalanced, just like my mom who swore she saw ghosts all of the time. If I can see ghosts, they should take my gun away, give me some heavy medication, and put me in a padded room.”

“That’s rude,” I replied. “After I cleaned up my appearance for you, you’re going to pretend I’m a figment of your crazy mind?”

He rubbed his temples with both hands and muttered, “Shut up, Samantha.”

From under the bed he pulled out a metal box and fingered the combination lock. He opened the box and withdrew the pulse gun I’d seen last night, turned and faced me, set his shoulders tight and said, with a steady forceful voice, “And please go away.”

Then he walked out of his bedroom.

Dodge might not agree with me, but this had to be the best day of my life, or afterlife, whatever you call it. I finally had someone who could see and talk to me and who wasn’t a blithering drunk or crazy. It was great and I wouldn’t let him go that easily. I quickly ran after him, but he was gone from the apartment. Out on the street, a few pedestrians, several cabs, and a bus were making their way up and down the street. No sign of Dodge. I stared into the coming dawn, the sun trying desperately to burst its way through the normal overcast of the city. It must be very early in the morning.

What time was it? Knowing the time had never been important before, but now it was. I walked through the door of an art gallery across the street from Dodge’s apartment. The clock on the wall said half past six. What a horrific time to have to go to work. When I was alive, I never started my day before ten.

Dodge had dressed in his uniform, so I would probably find him at the San Francisco Police Station. I remembered reading that they had moved it from its original location to someplace downtown after the quake. I had no idea where it was. It wasn’t like I could open a phonebook or use a phone to call the operator. The easiest thing to do would be to get into a patrol car and wait for it to go to the station. I suppose if I couldn’t find a patrol car, maybe I could find a bank being robbed. Either way, I would find Dodge.

It wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would be. I jogged down the street and found the police station three blocks from Dodge’s apartment. Dodge must have walked to work. It was a four story building with a brick front. I entered the building. Inside was a long corridor with several doors on each side. Each had a nameplate on it. The first was marked “Booking Room”. I probably wouldn’t find Dodge in there.

The next door said “Chief Jackson”. The man who had demoted Dodge? I’d like to see him. I moved through the door into a huge office. Toward the back, facing the door stood a massive cherry wood desk. In front of it sat two high-back leather chairs. On the right wall was another desk with the latest computer system.

The room was empty so I went over and sat in the chief’s chair. I smiled and pointed at one of the two chairs, “Now, Dodge. Why did you arrest the Frenchman?”

Then I walked through the desk to the high-back chair, sat down, leaned forward, and said, “Because he was a jerk!”

The door opened. Instinctively, I sank down in the chair and then remembered that no one could see me. I sat up, put my feet on the desk, and leaned back.

The chief wasn’t tall, maybe five-seven or five-eight, but weighed at least 225, maybe more, a balding man wearing an off-the-rack brown suit, with a face all stressed around the edges. He came around the desk. Just as he sat down, his phone rang.

“Yes, Sarah? Mayor Phillips? Put him through.”

The chief drummed his fingers on top of his desk and smiled while he waited.

“Good morning, Mayor. What can I do for you?”

“What? What reporter?”

He stood up, scowled and shouted, “No!”

“But sir, he’s suicidal. Just look at what happened last night. Only one day as a patrolman and he walked into an explosive situation without his gun.” He paused and listened.

“I know, but he’s not the best choice to lead anything anymore. He’s got major emotional problems.” The chief clenched the phone tighter.

“Fine, but if he self-destructs and takes someone with him, I don’t want to be blamed.” The chief counted to ten, obviously waiting for the mayor to hang up and then slammed down the phone. He pushed a button on the phone and shouted, “Sarah, get me Benson.”

The chief reached into a metal file cabinet, withdrew several files, and threw them on his desk.

Obviously he’d been talking about Dodge. He didn’t know how right he was about his being suicidal. If I hadn’t come along last night, Dodge might be dead.

Chapter 4

A few minutes later there was a knock at the door. The chief bellowed, “Come in.” He pointed toward the chair I sat in and said, “Sit down.”

Dodge came around the chair and saw me. His eyes widened, he covered his face with his hand, coughed, and sat in the other seat.

The chief looked at him and shook his head. A few seconds passed, no one said anything.

“You wanted to see me, Chief?” Dodge leaned forward.

It was like a flood gate opened. “Shut up, Benson. If I had my way you’d be walking a beat for the rest of your career.”

Dodge sat back in the chair.

“After that stunt last night, you should be suspended, without pay, until I deem you ready to return to work.

“Last night…” Dodge started.

“I said, shut up!” The chief hollered, pointing his finger at Dodge. “You’ve got a death wish, Benson. That’s fine, but walking into that bank without your gun and before backup has arrived is stupid. You might have gotten the hostages killed.”

“I didn’t.”

“This time it went your way.”

Last night Dodge had made two suicide attempts. Maybe he did have a death wish but this guy was rude. I went behind him and started making rabbit ears on his head. Dodge glanced up, coughed again, and glared at me. That same look had never worked for my parents, what made him think it would work now? I wondered if my newly found attire changing skill would work when I was inside of someone. Oh, it was worth a try. As I stepped into the chief, Dodge’s face showed surprise, then shock.

“What’s the matter with you?” The chief yelled at Dodge.

“I’m fine, sir. Why was it you needed to see me?”

I put my hands into his and then concentrated on changing my appearance, well, actually, the appearance of the chief since I was inside him. First I tried the red dress, then the cowboy outfit and hot pants. It was obvious on Dodge’s face that it worked. Was he actually going to smile? His lips turned up at the edges, but it wasn’t much of a smile.

The chief yelled, “You think this is funny, Benson?”

Dodge shook his head. “No sir.”

“You’ve already heard, haven’t you?” The chief rose and I stayed on the seat behind him, still dressed in the cowboy outfit. The chief returned to his boring suit.

“Heard what?” Dodge asked.

“I wish I could wipe that smug look off of your face.” The chief seethed.

“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, sir.”

“Sure you don’t. You don’t know that the mayor called me and ordered me to put together a team to hunt down the perp who killed those whores.”

“A team?” Dodge asked, his face mixed with apprehension and curiosity.

“He got a call from a reporter who asked him what we were doing about the serial killer loose in our city.” The chief tilted his head toward Dodge and scowled, “I wonder how that happened.”

“I don’t know,” Dodge shrugged. “What’s that got to do with me?”

“He knows you have the highest closure rate of any homicide inspector in the city. He wants you to lead the team.”

Dodge sat forward in the chair. “Really?”

“Frankly, I think these murders are just pimps cleaning out the trash in their stables, but if the mayor wants them looked into, then that’s what were going to do.”

Blah! Blah! Blah! This was boring. I stuck my head through the chief’s stomach and waved at Dodge.

He sat back quickly.

“What is the matter with you, Benson?” the chief shouted.

Dodge stood. “I’m fine, chief. Who else is on the team?”

“I’m going to assign Dexter O’Brian and Marge Roberts.” He shook his head. “They’re fuck-ups like you. You’ll make a great team.”

“I’d like to go home and change out of this patrolman uniform.”

“Fine,” the chief mumbled, looked back at the files on his desk and waved toward the door. “Get out of here.”

Dodge glanced at me and nodded toward the door.

The chief looked up from his desk. “You want me to come with you?”

“No, Chief.”

“Then stop standing around and get the hell out of my office.”

“Yes, sir.” Dodge opened the door and waited a few seconds for me to go with him.

“Why the hell are you still standing here, Benson?” the chief bellowed, his face red and bloated.

“I’m going, sir.” Dodge closed the door.

I walked through the door and smiled at him.

He scowled, then headed toward the front doors of the station.

I strolled behind him as he marched the three blocks back to his apartment. It was fun watching him. This time he didn’t hold the door for me, he just went inside. When I went through the door, he stood a few feet from it with his hands on his hips, his face red and tight. He looked ready to explode and he wasn’t smiling.

“Do you know that your chief is afraid of you?” I asked.

“What?” he said as he dropped his hands to his side and his face relaxed.

“Yeah, I think he’s scared you’re going to beat him up.”

“He is not.” Dodge shook his head.

“Yes, he is. Don’t argue with me. I was the one inside of him.”

“Okay, and that was way too weird.”

“Did you like my choice of outfits for him?”

Dodge smiled. “It was kind of funny.”

It was the first time I saw him smile. He had a great smile. It lit up his face and made him even more handsome, if that was possible. It was nice to see. “I’m a barrel of laughs once you get to know me.”

“Samantha, why are you here?”

“I have no idea.” I shrugged.

“Did you die a violent death and now you’re searching for closure or justice?” his tone warm and concerned.

I laughed. “You watch too many movies.”

He scowled again. “Then why are you here?”

“I told you already, I have no idea.”

Dodge shook his head. “I’ve got to change.”

I started to follow him into his bedroom, but he put up his hand. “Oh no, you stay out here.” He took two steps and then turned, “No peeking either.”

“Fine,” I said and sat down on the leather couch. “I’ll just wait here.”

“Good.” He nodded and left.

I put my feet up on his coffee table and leaned back into the thick leather couch. It was so nice to finally have someone who could see and talk to me. Someone normal, that is. I had spoken to a few psychics since my death, but they were always trying to help me “cross over”, as if I hadn’t been trying to do that for years. It wasn’t as easy as they thought. The mental patients and drunks were always fun conversationalists. A few thought I was God, a few the Devil, and the rest referred to me as a long-lost relative or their best friend.

Several minutes later, Dodge came out in a pair of black slacks and a dark blue polo shirt. It was a great color with his eyes. The outfit was in contrast to the brown shoulder holster that sat heavy against his body with a more traditional gun inside.

He sat down next to me. “How long are you going to be sticking around?”

“I have no idea.”

“You say that a lot.”

“That’s because it’s the truth. I don’t know why I haven’t moved on to wherever you move on to when you die.”

“Why can I see you?” he asked.

“I don’t know the answer to that, either.”

“Has anyone ever seen you before?”

“Mostly drunks and mental patients not taking their medication and babies. A few psychics, but they couldn’t actually see me. They just felt my presence and knew I was there. I used to sense people’s strong emotions but I learned quickly to block them out. People’s emotions are too unpredictable and I was being constantly bombarded with too many volatile emotions. You said your mom was a psychic?”

“Yeah, well, mostly it was an excuse to keep herself off her medication. She said it interfered with her psychic abilities.” He sighed. “Maybe I am going nuts.”

“I don’t think so.”

He studied me for a moment. “How do you know the chief is afraid of me?”

“When I’m inside of someone, I can sense anything they are feeling.”

He smiled. “Can you tell if they’re lying?”

“Usually, as long as they know they’re lying, then so will I.”

His smile broadened. “You just might come in very handy.”

I sat up. “Really?”

“Sure, you can be my personal lie detector.” He stood.

I jumped up and tried to hug him, but passed right through him.

He stepped back and shivered. “Don’t do that again.”

“Why?”

“It’s got to be the weirdest feeling.”

“You can feel it?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Nobody ever complained before.”

“Has anyone ever seen you do it to them?”

“Well, no.”

“Trust me.” He put his hand up. “It’s creepy.”

I frowned. “Creepy, bad?”

He thought for a moment, then said, “No, not exactly, but still eerie.”

I shrugged. “Okay, I’ll try to refrain from doing it again.”

He nodded. “Thanks.”

“We’re kind of like partners.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Well, at least I finally have something to do. It’s nice. Thanks.”

“How long have you been dead?”

“What day is it?”

“June 1
st
, 2040.”

“I died five years ago.”

“Wow. What have you been doing?”

“Let’s walk back to the station and I’ll tell you on the way.”

Dodge got a black leather blazer from the closet by the door, then opened the door and I stepped through. It was nice to have someone do that for me. Not necessary, but nice.

Before we left the building, I cautioned him, “I’m going to talk, but you should just listen. Just look forward and walk. If you look at me or talk, someone might call an ambulance and put you in that padded room.”

He laughed. “You’re right. Tell me what you’ve been doing since you died.”

“At first I searched for ways to move on.”

“How?” Dodge asked.

“By hanging around terminally ill patients, but that didn’t work and it was very boring.”

“A bored ghost? Now I’ve heard everything.”

I frowned, then told him about enjoying the ribs on Christmas Eve and my adventures after that.

“Sounds kind of cool,” Dodge said.

“It was. I did all the things my parents would never allow. It wasn’t like we didn’t have the money; I came from a wealthy home. My parents were overprotective of me because I was their only daughter and they wanted to keep me safe. It didn’t help obviously, I’m dead anyway. Now I’m bored with that, too. There just isn’t anything left for me to do. Now I just wander from city to city, country to country.”

“Is that how you ended up in my apartment?”

“Sort of. You see, I’ve gotten lazy, too. In the beginning, I always took the streets and alleys on my travels. Now, I just walk through the buildings, it’s easier. It’s not like I ever get tired, but why bother to go around if you can walk through them?”

As we neared the police station, Dodge took his earphone out of his pocket and put it into his ear. It was a great day when they took all those silly apps off of people’s phones and made them just an earpiece. Now you just answered with a tap on the earpiece and made calls by tapping another section and saying who you wanted to call.

“Hi Samantha, this is Dodge.”

“Oh.” I smiled. “This is a great way to have a conversation.”

“It will work.”

“Except in cars where they’ve been banned.”

He frowned. “The ban was a good idea. There were just too many damn accidents, even with the totally hands-free technology of these little earphones.”

“I wasn’t disagreeing with the ban, just stating a fact.”

“We’re going to have to figure out a way to communicate when we’re inside a building. It’s just rude to talk on a phone when you’re interviewing or speaking to someone in front of you.”

“So I can tell you when someone is lying or not?”

“Yes.”

“How about I stick my hands out and give you a thumbs up if they’re telling the truth and a thumbs down if they’re lying?”

“Stick your hand out how?”

“Let’s try it,” I suggested and pointed to a man in a business suit walking toward us. “Ask him a question.”

Before Dodge could say anything, I slipped into the man’s body.

Dodge’s eyes widened, but he put his hand out and stopped the man. “Excuse me, sir.”